


Footprints On Our Hearts

by DrColleen



Series: Heart [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Bobby Singer, Canadian Content, Multi, Persistent UST, Pie, Sam Ships It, Sam can't sing, Somebody Had to introduce Dean to RENT, The Winchester Gospels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 83,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrColleen/pseuds/DrColleen
Summary: 26 years after a beautiful stranger crosses Bobby Singer's path, a surprise shows up on his doorstep.Story picks up after Swan Song.





	1. As Time Goes By ~ Frank Sinatra

**Author's Note:**

> Re-edited and reposted from Fanfiction.net. I lost track of where I wanted the story to go but have recently fallen back into the Supernatural fandom and thought the fic deserved a second chance.  
> Sticks faithfully to canon up to and including Swan Song...plays fast and loose with canon and characters from that point on.

Footprints On Our Hearts

Prologue

Monique Houdin was too young for Woodstock, but that didn't stop her from jumping into a 1965 VW split window van with a group of young people from Montreal in 1983 and driving through the American Midwest for a seven month road trip.

She met him when the van passed through South Dakota in August and needed a new transmission. She jumped out of the back of the van, looking for all the world like a half-stoned hippie version of Kelly LeBrock, her wild long brown hair tousled, and her paisley skirt floating easily in the heavy late afternoon breeze. She was barefoot and wore braided hemp around her left ankle.

At the age of 23 she was aware of her feminine mystique; petite, curvaceous and emanating a raw sensuality.

He was nearly twice her age.

The transmission was ready by nightfall, but they were miles from a motel and no one in the group felt like driving. It wasn’t as though they had any sort of schedule to keep; there certainly wasn't an itinerary planned for their jaunt across the States. The motley ensemble bid their goodnight and crawled into the back of the van that sat in the middle of the scrap yard.

He turned in for the night.

Moonbeams filtered through the window in his room, casting eerie pools of light on the ground.

The click of a door opening echoed loudly from across the weathered building.

He blinked and sat up in bed. Ears alert to the padding of bare feet through his house, he reached under his pillow and pulled out his revolver.

There was a pause and his bedroom door creaked open.

The woman Monique, from the van, stepped into his room, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire.

He quickly decided that he was still a few years away from the day that he'd simply have to pass on opportunities like this and settle for wishing he was 20 years younger.

She lay there beside him for a few brief minutes afterwards before rolling over, placing a kiss on his chest, and then sliding out of the bed. She slipped her clothes back on and wordlessly padded back out of the room.

He watched her leave before sighing in contentment and rolling back over to fall asleep.

XXX

They were gone by the time he woke up in the morning.

Never one to be accused of being a fool, he did a cursory inventory of his belongings...you never could tell with those hippie wannabes, but nothing was missing, or even out of place.

Satisfied, he shook his head and headed back into yard.

Maybe it was like that quote about some people coming into your life and leaving and making the sky more beautiful to look at, and leaving footprints on your soul, or something.

The sky actually was kinda pretty this morning, he mused.

XXXXX

 

Twenty Six Years Later, August.

A petite form sat in the pew of First Lutheran Church and gazed up at the purple stained glass windows around her. God, please place Your hand on me and fill me with Your peace. Her prayer was heartfelt and almost instantly calming. She knew her heavenly Father had been with her on this journey to locate her earthly father. 

It had taken months and finally a 2 hour flight from Pearson Airport in Toronto, Ontario to Winnipeg, Manitoba before renting a car and making the 7-and-a-half-hour drive due south to Sioux Falls, South Dakota to get to this point. 

It had taken years of longing and a missing piece in her heart to get to this point. I just hope he'll be as excited and happy to know about me. She worried the inside if her cheek with her teeth.

She'd done her research. The timeline fit, and she'd eliminated all other possibilities. Robert Singer was her father. And tomorrow she would finally meet him.

XXX

Dr. Frank Nicole Houdin had rented a 2010 XF Premium Luxury Jaguar for her road trip south. If she was going to travel through such random states as North and South Dakota, she damn well was going to do it in style. She even liked the paint color name: Cashmere Gold. It was nice to indulge herself like this after six months in Haiti. If Hell existed on earth, and if Frank was a gambling woman, she'd put money that it was located in Haiti. And yet, she considered, she'd witnessed some of the most beautiful acts of kindness there. What is it about disaster and tragedy that brings people together like that? It certainly renewed her hope for mankind.

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as Tom Cochrane rocked out on the radio.

"Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long!" she sang along happily, laughing at herself and her incredibly good mood.

She tucked a strand of thick wavy brown hair behind her ear, turned the car onto South Carolyn Avenue as the GPS instructed and pulled into the parking lot of the Staybridge Suites, another small indulgence. She had no interest in staying in some grungy motel.

She parked her car and checked in. Bringing her bags to her room, she carded the door open and deposited everything onto the table just inside.

Shower and bed, she decided, too tired to even contemplate food. She'd stopped briefly at a highway diner for a bite to eat, but aside from the occasional stop at a gas station to refuel her rental, she had been driving since she'd left Winnipeg. A hot shower before bed is in order, she thought, massaging her shoulders in exhaustion. She felt a little...stale...from the car ride. But I'll probably fall asleep in the shower if I don't go to bed right now.

She took a vote in her head and the immediate necessity of sleep won over the prospect of a shower.

She didn't even bother changing into her pajamas. She just toed off her shoes, shucked off her jacket and blouse, dropped her slacks to the floor and crawled under the covers.

She was asleep in a matter of a minute.

XXX

Bobby Singer replaced the receiver of his phone on the cradle. The Winchesters were going to be the death of him...again.

He looked out the window at the mid-morning sky and sighed. He felt older than ever.

He was pulled from his maudlin thoughts at the sound of tires rolling to a stop in front of his house. He frowned, he wasn't expecting anyone.

He went over to the door and pulled it open, just in time to see a petite woman emerging from a beige-colored Jag. She wore a pair of sunglasses that she reached up and pulled off, tossing them back onto the driver's seat of her car. She smoothed her hand over her hair, which was brown and secured at the base of her neck in a complicated knot. She straightened her clothes; the lavender blouse beneath the light grey suede jacket, smoothing the front of her slightly darker grey pants. Classy dresser. A lawyer, maybe?

She exhaled a breath, almost as though she was nervous. Demons only got nervous when you were threatening to exorcise them...so probably not a demon, then.

"Hey!" Bobby called gruffly from his doorway.

She gave a little jump, clutching a hand to her chest, startled. She let out a little giggle. "Hello! I'm looking for Mr. Robert Singer. I understand he owns this property."

"Who wants to know?"

She smiled pleasantly at him."I'm Dr. Frank Houdin." She closed the door of the car, and started up the steps."I believe Mr. Singer, uh, knew my mother."

A doctor. But the last name did not ring any bells. At all.

His lack of response prompted her to speak again. "I just made it into town yesterday. I'm from Montréal. You know, in Quebec? ...In Canada?" She looked uncertainly at him.

Montreal. Something in the back of his mind felt familiar.

She shifted her weight. Still nervous. What is this girl's problem?

She stuck her hand out. "Sorry, I am so rude, I didn't ask you your name."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. He could deal with the fallout later."Bobby."

He could practically hear the cogs in her head whirring as she processed that little bit of information. She let out a little laugh. Quick, this one is.

"Ok, this is going to sound...crazy." She pursed her lips. "But I don't know how else to say it."

"Lady, I'm familiar with crazy. I'm pretty sure I can handle whatever you're here for."

She gave him a look that clearly said, I doubt you'll be ready for this, but sighed and said, "1983. August. A van of...people, came through this way. Stayed the night. Left early the next morning. My mother was with them."

Bobby waited patiently. This girl was looking for her mother...how the hell was he supposed to remember what he'd been doing over 25 years ago?

"Right, so...I'm just going to..." She took another breath, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, said, "I'm looking for my father. I think you might be him."

She was right. Of all the things he'd expected to hear, that was not one of them.

She clasped her hands together, looking stricken at his total lack of reaction.

"H-how did you come to this conclusion?" he managed.

"You want the Reader's Digest version?"

"For now." He gave a nod.

"Lots of research. I tracked my mother's road trip in 1983. I eliminated all other sexual partners as possibilities. I allowed for two months on either side of the likely month of conception. You fit."

Too much information. Not enough. He needed a drink.

Leaning against the doorjamb, he asked,"Do you want to come in for a drink?"

"Tea would be wonderful." She gave a small relieved smile.

He turned and she followed him into the house.

He put the kettle on for tea and gestured for her to sit down at the kitchen table. They were both silent as they waited for the water to boil. Once it did, Bobby prepared the tea, found a clean mug and poured. Then he poured himself some Jack Daniels.

She raised her mug to his glass, "Cheers."

"Cheers,” he replied, and downed his drink.

He caught her eyebrows meeting her hairline."Was my revelation really that traumatic?"

He could not deal with cheekiness right now."So, your mother...what was her name?"

"Monique Houdin." She opened her purse. "I have a picture of her back then..." She handed him a worn photograph.

In the picture was an old VW van, a group of people standing in front of it. Bobby's eyes zeroed in on the woman who was obviously Frank's mother. His breath caught. He remembered her alright. How could he possibly forget this woman? Beautiful women did not crawl into Bobby's bed uninvited all the time. No, he definitely remembered her.

He had a daughter?

XXX

Sam and Dean had been meandering from Arizona, over to New Mexico and up to Colorado, finding jobs along the way. Their eventual destination was Bobby's. Dean wanted a bit of a break but Sam wanted to get as many hunts in before they got there.

The last time they'd talked to him was at the end of May, just after Michael had yanked Sam back out of the Pit. Sam wasn't sure how many times he'd shot off a quick prayer of thanks that Lucifer's cage wasn't a one-size-fits-all deal, but rather, custom-made by Michael to hold Lucifer, and Lucifer only. This made Michael's escape from Hell much easier, especially since he was dragging both Adam and Sam out along with him, bodies and souls.

Michael had taken Adam back to Heaven, as he'd been promised, to be with his mother. Sam, he'd left on earth, much to Sam's amazement.

Sam told Dean that they should let Bobby know they were on their way, but probably wouldn't be there for a couple more weeks. Maybe three. Dean decided that calling Bobby was a good idea, because maybe Dean might be able to get Bobby to convince Sam to get there sooner.

Dean tossed the keys to Sam and slid into the passenger side. Sam quirked an eyebrow, but quickly got in and within minutes they were on the I-76 to Nebraska.

"Bobby Singer's residence, Frank speaking." A very female voice answered after the third ring.

"Uh...is Bobby around?"

Sam shot Dean a curious look. Dean shrugged, clueless as his brother was.

"May I ask who is calling?" she asked pleasantly.

"It's Dean."

"Just a moment, Dean, I'll go get him."

Dean covered the mouthpiece of his cell. "Some chick answered the phone."

"Bobby's phone? Are you sure you called Bobby?"

Dean scowled, "Of course I did. She's going to get him right now."

"Dean?" He heard the woman's voice again.

"Yeah, still here."

"Great, Bobby's here."

"Dean?" Bobby spoke into the phone.

"Bobby, are you ok?"

"Yeah. Are you boys ok?"

"Yeah...who's the chick?"

"...Long story."

"You dog, you!"

"Dean, why are you calling?"

"Right, well, Sammy and I are headed your way. We need to crash for a bit. Sam doesn't think we need a break, but I need a break so you can expect us in about a week." Dean ignored the look Sam gave him.

"This really isn't the best time for..." Bobby's voice trailed off as a muffled female voice said something indistinct in the background. Dean strained his ears to catch what was being said, but it sounded like Bobby had covered the receiver with his hand. Seconds passed.

"Dean? We'll see you in a week."

"We? Frank and you?"

"Yes." But Bobby didn't say anything else. He just hung up.

"Oh, ho ho! Bobby's got a girlfriend!" Dean crowed with amusement.

"What?" Sam laughed in disbelief.

"Some chick named Frank. Sounded hot. Hot and young." Dean grinned.

"We're talking about Bobby, right?" Sam was skeptical.

"You think Frank is a nickname?" Dean pondered. "Like short for Francine...yeah, you can't be hot with a name like Francine, makes sense that she'd want people to call her Frank. Wonder what she looks like...bet she has tattoos and short spiky green hair."

"Green hair?" Sam was amused at the thought of Bobby dating a punk rocker chick with green hair.

"And she wears a studded collar." Dean decided. "And paints her nails black."

"I really don't think..."

"Oh yeah...you so know Bobby is doing some alternative chick,” Dean interrupted, really getting into his fantasy of Frank."Think she's a hunter?"

"I think we'd have heard about a green haired woman named Frank with tattoos and a studded collar,” Sam said patiently.

"You never know, it's not like we're exactly in on the latest hunter gossip,” Dean pointed out. "I bet she's a hunter."

"Whatever you say, Dean."

The landscape blew past them as they crossed the state line into Nebraska.

 

XXXX

"So...how did you find me?" Bobby asked the next day, a Tuesday. Frank had gone back to the hotel for the night and arrived at Bobby's house again the next morning. He had lain awake most of the night trying to decide how he was going to accept this. Because he was going to accept this. He wasn't going to turn the poor girl out after she'd come all this way. And as far as he could tell, on top of not being a demon, she also wasn't a crazy person.

She was actually a rather nice person. An emergency room doctor who had dabbled in international aide, she had grown up in Montreal with her grandparents after her mother had died when she was 5 years old.

"How did she die?" Bobby's brow furrowed. 

Frank frowned and sighed. "She had a tough time after she got pregnant. The group traveled down to California and she wanted to become an actress, but all she managed were some roles in seedy and semi-illegal skin films before she realized she was pregnant. She went back to Montreal and stayed with my grandparents until I was born. I guess I was lucky that she was raised Catholic and didn't believe in abortions...Morgenthaler had everyone in a frenzy back then and she could have gone to him for help. She got into some pretty hard-core drugs after I was born and ended up overdosing. I believe kids these days would use the vernacular 'epic' to describe how bad at parenting she was."

"I'm sorry." Bobby didn't know what else to say.

Frank shrugged. "Not your fault. I just don't think she knew how to be happy, you know? Some people don't. She tried chasing it with drugs, but that never really works, does it? The thing I never understood was why she couldn't see the good things she had. She had two parents who loved her and supported her, she never experienced any real tragedy in her life, aside from what she'd inflicted upon herself, and she was young and beautiful. She was in law school before she dropped out to travel the States. She had a future. She'd been blessed in so many ways, and she just wasted it."

Bobby had no response to that, except to push a bottle of Jack in her direction.

Her face split into an amused smile. "It's a little early for that, isn't it?"

"It's happy hour somewhere."

"I'm good, thanks. And I'm done being maudlin. Growing up with my grandparents wasn't so bad. I had a happy childhood. They raised me to be who I am, guided my steps, helped me believe in myself by believing in me. I wouldn't trade them for the world. I couldn't have asked for better people to raise me."

"So why come looking for me?" Bobby wanted to know.

Frank smiled and gave a little self-deprecating shrug. "Curiosity, I wanted to see if I was anything like you, find the missing piece, all that jazz." 

Bobby nodded, "So...how did you find me?"

"Well, like I said yesterday, I asked my Mom's friends about the road trip. I got specifics about where they went, who they met, all that. You'd be surprised how little people can remember when they spent the entirety of the eighties under the influence of cannabis." She smirked ruefully. "Finally I hired a private investigator. I gave him all the information I had stockpiled. I honestly don't know how he did it. All I know is that 2 weeks ago I found out about you and I started planning my trip."

XXX

Once Frank had finished her tale of tracking down Bobby, she turned her questions on to him. She was impressed with his extensive library of religious texts. 

"You seem incredibly well-read." she commented, and Bobby heard the unspoken for a mechanic. "Is religious studies a hobby for you?" Her gaze flickered around the living room.

"You could say that." What exactly was he supposed to say? It's not as though since the Apocalypse was averted he could go around telling people about his hunting. For the most part, regular folks were in the dark about the near-miss with the end of the world.

Of course, that's when Frank's eyes looked upwards. 

Explaining away the Devil's Trap was going to be difficult. 

She peered up without saying a word, walking around in a little circle to take in the markings on the ceiling from every angle. When her gaze reverted back to Bobby, her expression was unreadable. She seemed to be mulling over something in her head and Bobby would have given a lot to see exactly what she was thinking."So, what is that?"

"Art?" Bobby suggested hopefully.

The looked Frank returned with could be best described as 'nonplussed.' "Yeah, and Jesus was a white guy with blue eyes..."

Bobby's lips twitched in a smile."What does it look like?" He was curious to hear what her estimation would be.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling again,"Looks like it's written in Hebrew." she decided. "What does the scorpion represent? And I'm not familiar with the use of a heptagram..." she was murmuring to herself now. "It's a protective symbol of some sort." she concluded, looking back at him with an expectant expression.

Bobby gave her a considering look. Ok, so she didn't think he was a practicing Satanist, that was a good start. "It's a Devil's Trap."

She blinked.

Great, now she thought he was crazy.

"Why would you want to catch a devil?"

Huh...maybe not. "So that you can exorcise them from the person they have possessed."

Frank cocked her head to the side in a nod as if to say, Well, that makes sense. "Have you performed many of these exorcisms?"

"A few."

"Aren't exorcisms traditionally quite violent? Don't people sometimes die?" she asked, her tone was one of curiosity, rather than judgement.

Bobby's brow furrowed "You believe in exorcisms?"

"What? You can, but I can't?" Frank quirked an eyebrow.

"Most people..."

Frank shrugged, "I'm not most people. I spent time in Haiti, remember? Went down with lots of preconceptions, came back with different opinions. Sure, I'm a scientist, but I'm also a spiritual person. I believe in God and angels, in spirits and the idea that people have souls. I believe that there's more after death than just a box in the ground. I believe in good and evil and that there is some ultimate plan, even if we rarely follow the playbook. I believe in tests and temptations. The Devil." Frank frowned.

Bobby simply looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Frank sighed, "Between the exposure to Haitian Voodoo and the experience I've had as an ER doctor, I think I'm a little more familiar with the more spiritual...or even supernatural side of life than the average bear. More than once I've talked to people who had near death experiences and I definitely have seen miraculous recoveries. When I was in Haiti there were some things that happened that made me think that there's probably a whole lot more to it than I originally thought. I mean with all the stress people naturally talk about seeing things they figure can't really be there...but I don't really get stressed out like most people on the job, I thrive on it...but I did see ...things...that I definitely couldn't have explained without sounding a little bit crazy. But that's what faith is, right? You don't have to understand it for it to be real."

Bobby secretly wondered if he should hand her one of Chuck's novels and preface her foray into his world with the bizarre truth of the Winchester Gospels.

Frank narrowed her eyes at Bobby as he stood there thinking and staring.

"Yes." Bobby came back into focus. "They're real, and a whole lot of other things besides."

Frank gave him a look of consideration, before nodding decisively to herself, "Tell me." 

XXX

As the week went by Bobby warmed to Frank, even to the point of asking her if she would prefer to stay with him at his house, rather than at the hotel, and after she'd smiled and said yes, he told her to take her rental car back to Hertz. She could borrow any of the cars that were working, which meant his 1971 Chevelle. Frank smiled again, but opted to continue driving her rental.

Bobby gave her directions to the nearest grocery store after she assessed the contents of his fridge and she returned with fresh produce and other oddities such as yogurt and croissants. After Frank put all of the food away, she shooed Bobby out of the kitchen and proceeded to make dinner.

"Food's ready!" Frank finally called from the kitchen.

Bobby returned to the kitchen and stopped as the aroma from the meal greeted his nostrils. The table was laden with a roasted chicken, seasoned with rosemary. There was also roasted potatoes and caramelized carrots. Bobby actually felt his mouth watering.

Frank took her seat across from her father at the table and bowed her head. "Bless us Oh Lord and these thy gifts which we are about to receive through thy bounty through Christ Our Lord, Amen."

"Amen," Bobby agreed, looking over the food in front of him.

"So, I have white wine to pair with our dinner tonight, would you like some?" Frank asked, gesturing to the bottle that was open and breathing on the counter.

Bobby wrinkled his nose; he wasn't much for the wine. "Uh, no thanks."

Frank gave a little nod and began serving the food. "It's really handy to be able to shop for wine while you buy groceries...in Ontario you have to go to the LCBO, or the Beer Store for alcohol. I mean, unless you're actually drinking at a restaurant, but you can't leave the premises with a bottle. You can't buy alcohol at Walmart like you can around here." She shook her head, as though she were amused at the idea.

XXX

Sam and Dean stopped in Grand Island, Nebraska on Thursday night. They were running low on money and Thursdays always proved to be a good night at the local bars, for some reason. Dean had been hustling pool twice as often because he'd been sending Lisa envelopes of cash for Ben whenever he could. Sam was a little amused that Dean thought he didn't know.

Every day that Dean had spent at Lisa's he'd become more and more convinced that Ben really was his kid. They didn't talk about it though. And there was no real reason for Dean to call Lisa on her lie. But after he left with Sam he made a point of sending her money. After all, family was everything to a Winchester.

They were held up briefly in Chambers, Nebraska the next day to deal with a restless spirit, as it was the 13th and the usual amount of shenanigans always cropped up around that date. 

Bobby tasked Frank to help out with research as he was overwhelmed by calls from hunters who were in the field working their own cases.

Once Bobby had given her the lowdown on all things supernatural (which she took with surprising grace and calmness, he noted) Frank became eager to learn and help in any and all ways that she could.

"The Winchesters may have averted the Apocalypse, but that doesn't mean all manner of evil went to hide under a rock," she reasoned. She was right.

XXX

The small ruffles on her creamy silken blouse fluttered in the light, early afternoon breeze and the scent of her perfume wafted to greet Dean's nose as he pulled the Impala up next to the Jaguar which was parked in front of the house.

She smelled expensive.

Gardenia blossoms...amber wood and...something else Dean couldn't put his finger on. Whatever it was, it smelled damn good. Sensual and elegant.

"Oh, hello there." She smiled at them from the porch as they got out of the car. "You must be the Winchester brothers."

"I'm Sam, this is Dean. You must be Frank."

"Davis Jr., Martin, and Sinatra reunited." A laugh tinkled from her throat. “It's a pleasure to meet you."

"They here?" Bobby joined her from the house.

"They are, I'll get some drinks, you gentleman have had a long drive,” Frank said, tossing them a smile and turning to pass by her father. The phone rang as Frank stepped inside the house again. "I'll get it!" she called over her shoulder.

"So, she doesn't have green hair." Dean said, looking a little disappointed.

"Huh?" Bobby asked. "Why would she have green hair?"

"No reason," Sam said quickly. "So Bobby, who is she?"

"Bobby, phone's for you!" a voice trilled from the kitchen.

Bobby spared them a look and then went inside, gesturing Sam and Dean to come in.

Frank was just handing the receiver over to Bobby when the Winchester walked into the house.

It had been months since they'd been here last. In fact, Dean could count on two fingers the number of times they'd been here since Sam's second demon blood detox.

Frank went over to the fridge and retrieved a pitcher of lemonade. "Would you gentlemen prefer a beer?" she asked, pouring a glass.

Dean nodded, but Sam accepted the glass with a word of thanks.

Frank exchanged the pitcher of lemonade for a beer in the fridge, after she'd poured herself a glass, and handed the bottle to Dean.

"Cheers," she said, raising her glass slightly in their direction.

"Cheers," Sam echoed.

"Have a seat," Frank encouraged, leading them into the living room, the sound of Bobby's voice on the phone fading as they left the kitchen.

"So, Frank...you have a last name?" Dean asked.

"Houdin." She smiled at them, tucking a stray brown lock behind her ear. She wore her hair in a low ponytail. She gestured for them to all take a seat.

"Like Houdini?" Sam asked, sitting down across from her on the couch. Dean made himself comfortable in a chair adjacent the couch.

"Yes, I'm somehow distantly related to the man whom Erik Weisz admired." Frank crossed her legs at the ankle, and smoothed her tan slacks with one hand.

"Huh?" Dean was lost.

"Harry Houdini wasn't his real name, it was Erik Weisz. He was a fan of another magician whose name was Jean Robert-Houdin, so he took the last name Houdini, to mean 'like Houdin',” Sam explained.

"How do you know this stuff?" Dean looked at Sam.

"Actually, Jean's wife's last name was Houdin, he hyphenated his last name with hers,” Frank corrected.

"Bet you didn't know that," Dean told Sam smugly. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Most people don't," Frank said kindly.

"And you're first name is really Frank?" Dean asked her.

"Yes, it really is Frank...my mother was, among other things, a fan of Sinatra,” Frank said sardonically. “But my middle name is Nicole, which is what my grandparent's called me. I use my first name professionally, even if it gets a little confusing for some people."

"Professionally?" Dean's eyes twinkled; Sam knew exactly what kind of profession Dean was hoping Frank was in.

"I'm a trauma surgeon,” Frank said, biting her lip, as if unsure of whether or not she should be amused or insulted by Dean's train of thought.

"A doctor?" Sam was impressed. "You look pretty young to be a doctor.”

"Well, I am." She shrugged, and smiled.

"Your name sounds so familiar to me, why do I know your name?" Sam asked her, frustrated with his inability to remember.

"Maybe you've read an article I wrote, I really don't know, I'm not famous or anything..."

"Wait, Frank Houdin, you wrote the Harvard Law Review article on Medical Ethics and the Law?" Sam asked, his face clearly denoting how impressed he was. "I read that in my third year at Stanford. When did you write that? You must have only been in your second year!"

"First, actually,” Frank said. "Back when Canadian high schools still had grade 13. I was 19 when I started my undergraduate degree."

"How long does an undergrad take to complete in Canada?" Sam still looked confused.

"Four years, but I worked through the spring and summer semesters rather than just attending during the fall and winter terms, so I completed my Bachelors of Science in two years."

Sam continued to look impressed and Dean was beginning to get the impression that Bobby's girlfriend was even more of a geek than Sam. Whatever, he lost interest after her profession didn't turn out to be something more interesting.

"I took 4 years to complete my medical degree, and my residency only lasted ten months because I left to work with Doctors Without Borders in January for six months following the earthquake in Haiti."

"Where did you get your medical degree?” Sam asked curiously.

"McGill in Montreal,” she said, referring to one of Canada's finest medical schools.

"And your residency?" he prompted in awe.

She grinned. “Johns Hopkins."

Sam looked at Dean as if to say, ‘Is this girl something, or what?' but unlike Sam, Dean didn't subscribe to the Smarty-Pants-Who-Went-To-University monthly magazine, so he just gave Sam a half-hearted smile and thumbs up. He was getting bored. He was going to start fidgeting any second now, he could feel it. He took a pull of his beer.

"And you were at Stanford? Impressive. And now?" Frank asked.

Sam looked over at Dean. Oh good, they were going to talk--or not talk--about the Winchester way of life now. This could be interesting...Dean sat forward in his seat.

"And now..." Sam searched for words, and came up with nothing. He looked at Dean for assistance.

"Sam and I...we..." Dean gave it a try. Ok, that was weird. Lying came as naturally as breathing for the Winchesters, so why the hell was it so difficult to pull something out of their asses for Frank Houdin?

Maybe it was because when she looked at you, her grey eyes bore into your fucking soul, that's why.

"Where do we start?" Sam muttered.

"You could start with the truth and work your way backwards," Frank suggested, not unkindly.

Sam and Dean looked at each other again. If only it were that easy.

"Let me guess, then...since you're so shy." Frank gave a small smile, picking up one of Bobby's books and flipping though it idly. "You work for Bobby Singer as supernatural hit men."

Sam gave a startled high-pitched laugh, causing Frank to look up. "Getting warm, am I?"

Sam shot Dean a panicked look, who shot Sam one right back that clearly told him to calm down.

"Calm down," Frank echoed Dean's unspoken reassurance. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you're not taking some time off from school to take an extended road trip with your brother. You're visiting the home of a man who owns a scrap yard with a library containing half of every religious text known to man, and a Devil's trap on his ceiling--I'm not blind, and that sort of thing catches a person's eye,” she added, when the boys' jaws dropped in stunned silence.

"I've been called many things. Stupid was never one of them," Frank said with a smile.

"Well, blow me over,” Dean said finally, with a grin.

"You're a hunter?" Sam asked in amazement. "Why didn't you say...?!"

"That’s the code word for supernatural assassin, right? I had to ask about the Devil's trap to know what it meant. But I'm a quick study."

"Hold on.” Dean stood up. "You don't know what's out there?"

"Why do I just now feel like Scully?" Frank pursed her lips in a suppressed smile.

"That is not a normal reaction,” Sam informed her. "That is not a normal reaction,” he repeated to his brother, who nodded in agreement.

"Logically it makes sense, even if I can't explain the science of it," Frank rationalized. "I believe in God, and by the same token, I accept that there are other things out there that I can't fully explain."

"Logical? You think it's logical? She's crazy." Dean began pacing.

"I'm crazy? You're the one who hunts goodness knows what." Frank let out a trilling laugh, reclining in her chair. "Are you sure I'm the crazy one?"

"So Bobby hasn't told you anything?" Sam asked, confused.

"Of course he has. I've been in town for a week. It has come up, once or twice."

Bobby had finished on the phone and came into the living room. "I'm in the middle of helping out another hunter on some research,” he said, gesturing back at the telephone.

"So, Bobby, how'dya meet your girlfriend?" Dean cut right to the chase, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It wasn't that Dean begrudged Bobby this little piece of normalcy, especially after regaining the use of his legs...but this smacked slightly of robbing the cradle.

Frank smirked. "I'm no--"

"She showed up on my doorstep about a week ago." Bobby said gruffly.

"Serious? They do mail order brides out of Canada?" Dean was only half joking.

Frank giggled. Actually giggled. Dean narrowed his eyes at her; he didn't like people laughing at him. Especially since it sounded like she thought he was stupid.

"She's my daughter."

Sam had, predictably, chosen that moment to take a sip of his lemonade, and was now fighting for breath, choking and spluttering.

Dean just sat there blinking, as though someone had hit him very hard in the face with a frying pan.

"Is this recent?" Sam asked, once his coughing was under control.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at Sam. "Does she look recent?"

"Ouch," Frank grinned in jest.

"I didn't mean...oh never mind." Bobby shook his head.


	2. La Vie En Rose ~ Edith Piaf

To say that the Winchester's were unaccustomed to a home cooked meal would be a gross understatement.

While Bobby was a good cook, his specialties leaned towards greasy fry-ups and that didn't exactly deviate from the brothers' normal fast food diet.

When Frank announced she was going to cook them a celebratory dinner that night, the boys' stomachs rumbled in anticipation. Frank asked who wanted to tag along to the grocery store.

"We'll take my car," Dean said.

Dean held the passenger side door of the Impala open and Frank slid onto the seat, glancing with a smile in his direction.

XXX

As Frank pushed the cart into the Fresh Produce section she grimaced. "I suppose I should make a healthy veggie side dish. Your brother seems like he's a bit of a health freak."

Dean gave a nod in agreement of her assessment of Sam. "He is when we can afford it."

"It's ok," she said conspiratorially, as she selected broccoli crowns. "I'll drown these in cheese sauce."

Stopping in front of the bakery section, Frank examined the available dessert selection.

"Well, looks like we have to find ingredients for dessert."

"What's wrong with this?" Dean picked up a container of Black Forest Cake.

"These are...unacceptable." She curled her lip in distaste. "I'm not going to make anything crazy, I'll just whip up some cheesecake." She grinned, injecting a horrible Yankified accent into her words. "New Yawk style."

"No pie?" Dean asked dolefully.

"I can make you pie. Have a favorite kind?"

Dean stared at her. "I don't discriminate against pie. All Pie is Equal. Although," he said, "if I had to choose...I'd go with apple. That's just me, American as apple pie."

"Apple pie is actually Canadian," Frank pointed out. "...So is baseball."

"Well, aren't you the destroyer of the American dream?" He set the cake container down.

"The new American dream is to escape to Canada. Any other illusions you need me to shatter?" She smirked.

XXX

When the cashier told them the total, Dean whipped out his (well, Ronald Venkmeir's) credit card.

Frank shot him a disapproving look when she saw the name on the card and pulled out her debit card. "That will be on debit, thanks," she told the cashier.

Dean shrugged sheepishly and started to load the grocery bags into the cart to take them out to the car.

There was something really hot about a woman who paid with her debit card. Money she actually had...that was hers...not some credit card scam.

Frank accepted the receipt from the cashier and tucked it into her wallet with her bank card.

"So do I really want to know why you have some poor sod's credit card?" Frank gave Dean a sidelong look as they headed back to the car with the grocery cart.

"A man's gotta provide for his family somehow." Dean said, shrugging.

"Most people manage to do so without committing theft." Frank pointed out.

"It's not theft, it's fraud. 'Ronald Venkmeir' isn't a real person." Dean explained patiently.

"That doesn't really lessen the illegality." Frank pressed, face pinched in mild disapproval.

"I also hustle pool, it's not just credit card fraud all the time." he said defensively.

"Well, aren't you the ideal felonious package?" she shook her head, ruefully.

"It's not like we're robbing little old ladies out of their Social Security."

"Just robbing the rich to feed the poor, as it were. It's all very literary of you, Robin Hood."

"Hey, doing what we do doesn't exactly allow a person to hold down a steady job." he was getting a little irritated by her glibness. Why did it matter to him that she disapproved? He didn't care what anyone else thought. He did what he had to do to survive. _Little miss rich doctor couldn't understand that if she tried._

"Sorry...I've lived in a world of absolutes for a long time. For me, there's always been a pretty big gap between right and wrong." Frank shrugged, not really looking apologetic, but definitely seeming less judgemental.

They reached the Impala. There really was a whole lot of groceries.

Dean opened the trunk.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you don't have a permit for these." she gestured to the arsenal as they started to load the groceries on top.

"I live in the morally grey area, remember?" Dean said, by way of explanation, he injected a lilt of raunchiness into his voice and gave her a slightly lecherous look.

A bubble of laughter tumbled from her throat, and Dean could see her blush in the low light of the parking lot.

Dean found it...refreshing...to meet a woman who could posture and banter with him, and then blush at his one liners.

Virgin, he decided without malice, as they got into the car. He always marveled at people who could make it past the age of 20 without ever actually having sex. Especially when they were as objectively beautiful as Frank. Seriously, how could he be expected to believe that no one had ever tried to take her to bed? Maybe she was more discerning than he was...like Sam. Although, arguably, Sam wasn't very discerning when he slept with Ruby, now was he? So...bad comparison.

Dean spared Frank another sidelong glance. She was very tame looking with her cream-coloured silk ruffled shirt. Respectable. She didn't even seem to be wearing any makeup...maybe some mascara and lip balm. She was just so _pure._

She made Dean a little nervous.

XXX

"How are your chopping skills?" Frank asked the Winchesters once she'd put away the groceries that she wouldn't be using to make dinner, and arranged the ingredients she would need on the kitchen table.

"Sammy's always been the perfect little wife in the kitchen." Dean snickered and Sam shot him a dirty look. Actually, Dean was just ribbing him. Sam was a terrible cook. It's probably why he ate salad all the time. There's very little chance of setting pans...and counter tops...on fire if you aren't using the stove. Dean had done most all the cooking when they were younger, and while he wasn't Julia Child he could at least say that no one's life was in danger when he entered a kitchen.

"Oh come on, I think it's pretty manly for a guy to know how to cook," Frank said, an amused expression on her face. "If someone could start up the barbecue for me that would be very helpful. I'm always worried I'm going to do it wrong and my eyebrows will get singed off."

"Well in that case, I can help. Sam should not be left alone around fire. It only ends in tears." Dean went outside to fire up the barbecue.

XXX

It turned out that Frank decided to err on the side of caution and only allowed Sam to mash the potatoes and set the table. However, she did rearrange the cutlery, moving all forks to the left of the plates and knife and spoon to the right, giving Sam a slightly embarrassed look and a shrug, "I have a habit of standing on ceremony."

Apparently Bobby had warned Dean that Frank was going to want to say grace over the meal before they ate, because Dean didn't start stuffing his face as soon as he sat down. He limited himself to semi-orgasmic sounds as he sniffed the food, though.

Frank lowered her head in prayer, and the men followed suit.

"Dear Lord, thank you for this food. Bless the hands that prepared it. Bless it to our use and us to your service. And make us ever mindful of the needs of others. Amen." Frank said quietly. Her head came up and her eyes opened, "Ok, let's eat."

Dinner was...epic. Steak, mashed potatoes, thick gravy...broccoli for Sam...cheese sauce to put on top of the broccoli for Dean.

"I'm really glad you aren't one of those crazy health-conscious doctors who are vegetarian or something." Dean sighed contentedly.

"Yeah, I tried to do the whole vegetarian thing once, but that lasted about 4 hours before I needed a steak." Frank admittedly ruefully.

"A person doesn't have to be a vegetarian to eat healthy." Sam said after Dean gave him a significant look.

"That's true...but most people who eat healthy take all the fun out of food. Carbs are good for you." Frank look pointedly at Sam's naked broccoli. "Mae West once said, 'I never worry about diets. The only carrots that interest me are the number you get in a diamond.'"

Dessert consisted of New York Style cheesecake and apple pie a la mode.

"Dean! Is your When Harry Met Sally impression really necessary?" Sam rolled his eyes, which only incited Dean to moan louder...at least until he caught Bobby's eye, and his orgasmic moaning died quickly in his throat. He ate the rest of his pie contritely.

"I appreciate the sentiment." Frank's eyes twinkled merrily.

"We appreciate the effort." Dean dazzled.

"I think I'm getting heartburn." muttered Bobby.

"Apples cool the burn of stomach acid, would you like some more pie?" Frank looked at him with concern, "Or I can make some ginger tea...never mind." she saw the look on Bobby's face. "So gentlemen, if you would retire to the lounge will I finish up the dishes..."

Sam nudged Dean under the table with his shoe and gave him a pointed look.

"I'll help. With that." Dean said with a sigh.

"That's sweet of you." Frank smiled beatifically, "If you wouldn't mind drying the dishes and I'll wash them. I hate drying the dishes."

"Sure thing."

XXX

"Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling everything's going my way." Frank sang softly as she brought a tray into the living room the next morning.

Sam rolled over on the couch and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Dean grunted from his place on the floor in his sleeping bag, blinking tiredly. "I was having such a good dream. I can still smell the bacon," he mumbled.

"That's because I made some for breakfast," Frank chirped, setting the tray down on the lamp table beside the couch. "Coffee or orange juice to start?"

"Are you seriously serving breakfast in bed?" Sam asked, clearing the sleep from his eyes.

"What?" Dean sat up slowly with interest.

"No, the full spread is on the kitchen table. You'll have to get up for that. This is just a good morning appetizer." Frank smiled.

"I'll have orange juice," Sam said with a grin at Dean.

"Pulp or no pulp?" was Frankie's next question.

"Uh...you bought two kinds of orange juice?" Sam chuckled in surprise.

"No, we didn't buy any orange juice...only oranges," Dean remembered.

"I made some freshly squeezed this morning and then I strained half of it for anyone who didn't want..."

"Who are you?" Dean was stunned.

"I'll have no pulp," Sam said with awe and Frank handed him a tall glass.

"Coffee's fine by me," Dean said, becoming more convinced that Frank was actually a Stepford wife. Whatever, he totally called dibs on her in his head when he first saw her.

"Cream or milk?"

"Black is good."

"Sugar, or are you sweet enough?"

Dean smirked. "If the coffee's any good, then I'm sweet enough."

"One incredibly good, unsweetened cup of coffee, coming right up.." She obliged him. "Would one of you mind waking Bobby? I have food still to keep an eye on."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"How did you know he's not a morning person?" Sam asked.

Frankie smirked. "He's related to me, isn't he?"

"This is you not being a morning person?" Dean's eyebrows rose. "I mean, I heard Canadians are nice and all...but this...is a sickness."

"It's the only thing I fake." Frank's eyes twinkled, and with that she headed back into the kitchen.

"Huh..." Dean's eyes glazed over and Sam choked on his juice.

When Sam regained his ability to breathe, he turned to snap his brother out of his reverie. "Dude, Rock-Paper-Scissors."

Dean looked at Sam sharply. "For her? Sam, even I have limits-"

Sam rolled his eyes with an amused look and pointed at the ceiling. "I meant about waking Bobby."

XXX

Frank had just finished preparing the last of the meal and set the last plate on the table when she heard a shout from the living room.

"Sonofa-!"

"Always with the scissors, Dean!" Sam laughed.

Frankie heard grumbling from Dean as Sam came into the kitchen.

"Wow!" Sam stopped in the doorway as he laid eyes on the display on the kitchen table. He was reminded briefly of Jessica who often made small gestures of love like baking cookies...but never had Sam experienced a gesture on this scale, such a spread of-awesomeness-which apparently came as naturally to Frank as breathing. As though freshly squeezed orange juice was as simple for her as pouring a bowl of Cheerios-freshly hand squeezed orange juice. Dean was right: they had to keep her. "This is incredible!"

XXX

Frank headed out with her keys.

"Hey, where are you going?" Sam said, jogging after her.

"Oh, I'm taking a shift at the Good Shepherd Ministry and Counseling Center, downtown. They serve lunch on Wednesdays."

"You're volunteering at a homeless shelter?" Sam looked thunderstruck.

Frank's eyebrows rose and she gave a little laugh. "Yeah, is that okay?"

"No, yeah...that's really...good of you," Sam fumbled.

"Sam, I don't know how much you know about the Bible, but I like to think I have a small grasp on some of what it teaches...there's a verse in the book of Matthew that...Reader's Digest version says serving the less fortunate is akin to serving God." She shrugged. "It's not much, but I try to follow that suggestion."

"Right, okay. Well, have fun." Sam said, giving a little wave.

It was an unspoken communication between Sam and Dean that while Frank was gone from the house and Bobby was buried in research for another hunter they would be searching Frank's room for evidence of who the hell she really was. Okay, so she seemed nice enough...but who really knew these days?

Her bedroom door wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed.

"Guess we don't need a warrant," Dean quipped. "Everything's in plain sight."

Sam rolled his eyes and followed Dean into the room. Dean, of course, made a beeline for the panty drawer. "La Perla? Agent Prova-what the fuck does that say?"

"Provacateur?" Sam asked, flipping through a notebook from the bedside table.

"Yeah, I guess. Never heard of it."

"It's like British La Perla. Ridiculously expensive lingerie."

"Pricey panties," Dean said appreciatively, twirling a pair of lacy pink underwear around his finger. "Hard to imagine the mild mannered Canadian doctor prancing around in these."

"I doubt she'd prance. Can you stop molesting the panties, please?"

"She's kinda straight-laced," Dean continued, putting down the pair of underwear, delving into the drawer and pulling out a lavender bra."34 D." He groaned. "Oh baby..."

"Dean, focus," Sam said sharply.

"Sam, those puppies are real...real D cups." Dean's eyes were a little glazed and Sam knew he was in his happy place. Sam grimaced, not even wanting to think about what went on in Dean's happy place.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?"

"Unless you're blind, you must have noticed that Stepford Barbie did not exactly fall out of the ugly tree," Dean said.

"You're unbelievable," Sam said, turning back to the notebook.

"This underwear has just allowed me to come to a decision," Dean declared.

"I swear, Dean, if you tell me you're going to get into her pants tonight..."

"I'm going to get into her pants tonight," Dean said matter-of-factually.

"You won't be able to. She just went to volunteer at a church. She's a churchy girl...she's not going to let you fuck her," Sam said, as though he were talking to someone incredibly stupid.

Dean hated it when Sam used that tone with him."Is that a bet?"

"No, Dean, I am not taking bets on some poor girl's sexual fate. She's not going to do it."

"Oh that's right, you like bad girls. Monsters and demons...I, on the other hand, sleep with angels."

"That's angel, singular...and she tried to kill us, remember?"

"Yeah, that kinda sucked. But seeing as we haven't found anything incriminating, I think we're safe from Frank."

"You mean, I haven't found anything...seeing as I'm actually looking and you're sniffing her panties."

"I'm not sniffing them. I'm molesting them, remember?"

"Dean...the woman's closet contains 80% pastel colored clothing. Since when have you wanted to bang June Cleaver?"

"Since now, okay? Especially since I heard that Canadians thought that sexy lingerie consisted of tube socks and a flannel nightie with only two buttons...but this is evidence to the contrary." Dean said, abandoning the pantie drawer and moving over to the bedside table. He opened the drawer and pulled out a purple book. "I'm guessing this is not one of Bobby's copies." Dean showed Sam the cover which displayed the words 'Holy Bible' in silver letters.

"I'm thinking the same thing."

"Still, more than one serial killer has had this book in their library," Dean said, flipping the bible open. Several bookmarks were holding different places in the bible, and it looked like Frank had used various colors of highlighter to showcase her favorite verses. She'd even written notes in pen in the margins. Dean turned the book sideways and squinted at her penmanship, "'God did not create a simple world. He did not create a simple religion. - William Kirkpatrick," he read. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Dean!" Sam chastised.

"Hey, it's not me, she wrote it in here!"

"She wrote 'No shit Sherlock' in her bible?" Sam asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"I kid you not." Dean handed over the bible.

"Huh...ok, so, irreverent sense of humor...maybe she's not June Cleaver after all."

Dean picked up an iPod from the bedside table, "Looks like she's tech savvy enough for one of these things." he tossed it to Sam.

"Pretty schizophrenic playlist she has here." Sam said, looking at the little white triangle in his hand.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, in no particular order she's got The Wallflowers, Jefferson Airplane, Mindy Smith, Billy Joel, Elvis Presley, Boston, Alanis Morisette, Backstreet Boys, Jeff Buckley, Rachmaninov, Casting Crowns, Boney M, August Burns Red, Nine Inch Nails, Michael Buble, Alan Parsons Project, U2, Great Big Sea, Steve Miller Band, Newsboys, Reliant K, Chantal Kreviazuk, Rush, Goo Goo Dolls, Terri Clark, MercyMe, Jeff Healey, Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, Alison Krauss, Rodney Atkins, and some guy named Steve Carlson on her playlist." Sam said, "Just to name a few."

"Who listens to Backstreet Boys and Zeppelin?" Dean's brow furrowed.

"I do not have a answer for that." Sam's face was pinched, "A schizophrenic?"

"I think we need to talk to Bobby." Dean decided, "Straight up ask him who this girl really is."

"You don't think she's his daughter?" Sam's brow furrowed.

"I think we just averted the Apocalypse and it's pretty convenient that some chick claiming to be Bobby's daughter shows up." his brother replied grimly, "I'm not taking anything at face value anymore."

Sam gave him a look that said, 'Fair enough,' and followed his brother downstairs.

XXX

"So let me get this straight, you had a one night stand with Frank's mother, who was by all accounts a hippie-wannabe/drug addict/university dropout/porno actress...and 25 years later the fruit of your loins shows up at your door?" Dean summarized.

"That about sums it up." Bobby agreed.

"And you told her about hunting?" Sam was furrowing his brow again.

"I have a Devil's Trap on my ceiling, it was either that or tell her I was a practicing Satanist."

"I doubt that would have gone over well with Little Miss Churchy McGee." Dean considered.

"My thoughts exactly." Bobby said, taking another drink from his beer bottle. "She's been helpful with research though. Knows her Latin, thanks to her Catholic grandparents and medical school."

Dean shook his head. "That's just wild. Your daughter is a doctor."

"Stranger things." Bobby shrugged.

XXX

Despite Bobby's reassurances that Frank was not a demon, or anything else supernatural, Sam did a little research shortly after lunch on his laptop.

"Dean, look at this." he motioned his brother over to the screen.

"What is it? Found some dirt on the good doctor?"

"Financial records...or at least some of them. Look at them! She's got more money than Warren Buffet!"

"Is that in American dollars? She could buy a small country!" Dean said after looking at the numbers.

"She has a Swiss bank account." Sam scrolled down the page. "And she owns a whole lot of property too. It doesn't look like she just hands over her money to investors...she actually moves this stuff around herself. She even has a restaurant!"

"'A head for business and a bod for sin.'" Dean muttered a quote from Working Girl under his breath.

"Dean!"

They both sat in front of Sam laptop for a while, looking at the figures on the screen.

"I wouldn't even know what to do with that kind of money." Dean said, more than once.

XXX

When Frank came home in the afternoon. she headed straight for the kitchen. She started pulling things out of the fridge and then ducked her head into the livingroom. "I'm taking a vote: pork chops or salmon fillets?"

Dean's stomach rumbled. "Both."

"Fish." Sam raised a hand.

"Whatever you'd like." was Bobby's reply.

"Okay, noted...That's helpful." Frank gave a half smirk and went back into the kitchen. Seconds later she passed through the living room for the stairs. "I need some music to work to." she explained as she sailed by.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

_You put everything back where you found it, right?_

_'Course I did, bitch._

_Jerk._

Frank returned with her iPod, faint strains of Free Will by Rush piping from the earbuds that hung around her neck.

"I will choose a path that's clear - I will choose free will." she sang along under her breath as she headed back into the kitchen.

Dean grinned in appreciation.

"Anyone interested in helping me with the salad?" she said from the kitchen door.

Dean made a face.

"I will." Sam said, following her in.

"Kiss ass." Dean muttered, and followed Sam.

"The menu this evening will consist of salad, salmon, and start with french onion soup...because I'm famished."

"You could have a cooking show." Sam said, seemingly satisfied with this menu.

"I'm in daily expectation of a call." Frank chuckled.

 _"Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine I'm leavin' my life in your hands..."_ as the first lyrics of pop chimed out of Frank's iPod she began humming happily and bopping along to the beat.

"You have the Backstreet Boys on your iPod." Dean said, slightly accusatory.

"Hey, don't mock me, I still hold a very special place in my heart for the Backstreet Boys." Frank defended with a cheeky grin.

Dean scowled in deep disapproval while Sam dimpled.

"Come on, they're fun, bet even you know the lyrics."

Dean scowled harder.

"Nick Carter was so dreamy." Frank was clearly amused, and started singing into her spatula, _" 'Don't care what is written in your history, as long as you're here with me...'_ Take it away Sam!"

Dean made an appalled sound in the back of his throat and left the kitchen and all of the insanity.

Sam really is a terrible singer.

XXX

Frank had finished tidying up dinner and retired to her room for the night. Dean was about to turn in when he saw the light from beneath her door. He knocked.

"Come in."

He twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Frank had her Bible out and she was sprawled across the bed.

"Whatcha reading?"

She looked up, blushed and closed the book, her finger holding her spot.

Dean's eyebrow raised, "What, are you hiding erotica in your bible?"

Frank chuckled and shook her head, "It's Songs of Solomon. It's a little racy, I guess."

"You guess? You're blushing like I just walked in on you reading something X rated."

"Not X rated, but..." she flipped the bible open again, and began reading from her marked page. "And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. I am my beloved's and his desire is toward me." She looked back up with him, the colour high in her cheeks, "Chapter 7, verses 9 and 10."

"Pretty hot stuff...you know, in that geeky sort of way." Dean said after a moment.

"I think it gets the point across just as nicely as 'I like kissing my lover, we have the hots for each other.'" Frank's eyes twinkled cheekily.

"Huh, yeah, I guess." he stood there a moment more.

"Goodnight, Dean." she inclined her head pointedly.

"'Night, Frank." he closed the door behind him, shook his head ruefully, and padded down the hall to his room. "Frank's reading porn." he announced to Sam as he went inside.

"Of course she is." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Bible porn. Songs of Solomon. Look it up."

"Goodnight Dean."

"Night Sammy."

XXX

  
Thursday was spent lazily for the Winchesters. Dean made himself at home in Bobby's yard working on the cars while Sam sat out on the porch and buried himself happily in one of the old biblical texts that Bobby had recently purchased on Amazon, enjoying the warm and dry mid-August day.

Frank wanted to watch Dean working on the cars, but decided that it wouldn't be very ladylike to just set up shop on the porch and gawk at him. So she brought a book with her. She felt very sneaky.

She pulled on the pink trucker's cap that Bobby had purchased for her when they were out (Guns don't kill people, father's with pretty daughters do) and slowly turned the pages of To Kill a Mockingbird, a book she'd read over a dozen times and could start reading in the middle, whilst still enjoying it. She had to admit she had a small crush on Atticus Finch.

She peeked over the pages again. Dean was currently lying under the side of the Impala on his back. His light gray t-shirt had ridden up and there was about a centimetre of skin on display between the hem and the waist band of his jeans. Well, since we are in America, it's more like a quartre of an inch...she thought to herself.

"Shall I make lemonade?" she asked Sam after an hour and a half of peering over her book at Dean. He was awfully dirty. And sweaty. She licked her lips which were quite dry.

Sam gave her a sweet smile and nodded. "Dean will probably want a beer." he said helpfully.

"Coming right up." she ducked into the house. This mid-western heat was going to be the death of her.

XXX

She watched Dean as he poured over the open books in front of him with Sam. She bit her lip and rose to her feet, striding quickly out onto the porch. She really had to find a more appropriate means of dealing with her flare ups of attraction besides just leaving his presence. But it wasn't really her fault that he was so sexy when he was being smart and doing research, now was it?

A few minutes later Sam joined her on the porch. "Iced tea?" he held up a glass for her.

She smiled and took it from him, "Thanks."

"The research can get to you. It's pretty gruesome, sometimes."

She nodded noncommittally.

"Hey slackers! Get in here! I'm not doing this research all by myself!" Dean shouted from inside.

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled at Frank, "Come on, we'd better get in there before he hauls us back inside by the scruffs of our necks."

Frank gave a short nervous laugh, "He wouldn't really...?"

"Yeah, he would."

So Frank followed him back inside.

XXX

Frank leaned back in her seat, tilting her head and tenting the bible over her face in abject frustration. She was definitely going to a special hell if she kept this up. She growled under her breath and jumped from her seat, snapping the bible shut, tossing it on the chair, and stalking from the room and into the kitchen.

"Make sure you bring back some beers if you're planning on slacking off again-slacker!"

"Dean!"

Frank re-entered the room with a bemused expression on her face. "Here's your beverage, Your Awesome-ness. Is there anything else I can get you?" she handed him a bottle.

"Don't encourage him." Sam groaned, massaging the back of his neck with a wince.

"Don't worry, I don't generally play favourites, Sam." Frank walked over behind Sam's chair, "Here, let me." she pulled his hand off and replaced them with her own. She kneeded the nape of his neck deftly.

Dean squawked in envy, but Frank just stared pointedly at his beer. Sam was making some seriously embarrassing moans as Frank worked out the tension in his neck. "Your fingers are magic, Frank." Sam murmured happily.

Dean spluttered indignantly and rustled the pages of his book. "Some of us are trying to actually work here." he ground out between his teeth.

"Are you suggesting we take this into another room." Frank could hardly bite back her grin.

"No, I'm suggesting you should get back to work."

"Oh my gu-!" Sam moaned ecstatically as Franks fingers traveled up his neck and into his hair. Her nails drew languidly along his scalp and made his nerves sing.

"Are you finished?" Dean asked grouchily, "Can you stop being girls and playing with each other's hair and get back to work? Bobby's going to come back from town and I am not going to be held responsible when we haven't found anything."

"Calm down, we need a break every once in a while. And it's better to be fresh than try to research while we're tired and cranky." Frank chided gently.

"Well, I'm tired and cranky too, and you don't see me complaining."

"You're complaining right now." Sam pointed out.

But Dean just turned back to his book with a scowl.

Frank tipped Sam's head back so she could smile down at him. He dimpled back up at her.

XXX

Frank talked to her coffee. Would whisper sweet nothings at it. It was weird, but endearing.

"I didn't realize that Canadians were such coffee whores." Dean observed the first time he found her communing with her beans.

"We're not, generally. I mean, really aside from Timmies...but I'm French."

"I thought you were Canadian." Dean frowned.

"French-Canadian." she clarified.

"I'm not going to bother trying to understand the difference." Dean left her to her coffee.

XXX

Frank appeared in the door of Sam and Dean's bedroom. Well, not appeared, exactly: she'd knocked, and Sam opened the door further to find her standing there...ok, not so much standing, as leaning against the door frame with her shoulder, ankle crossed over the other, hand on her hip.

"Good evening gentlemen." she drawled.

Dean was sitting on the bed closer to the wall, Sam's bed, cleaning the weapons, and didn't look up at her greeting.

"Get dressed, we're going out."

It was that...the way she said it. As though she would brook no argument. Not bossy or demanding, really...just, sort of, commanding.

And that's when Dean looked up and realized that Sam was still standing there, holding the door open, his shoulders kinda tensed up. Dean craned his head to look around Sam's gargantuan frame and nearly fell off the bed. Okay, so now he got why Sam was doing his best impression of a statue.

Frank was dressed up to go out.

Her hair was tousled in a way that likely took a good half-hour in front of the mirror to accomplish.

Her eye makeup was several smoky tones of browns and coppers, highlighting her baby blues, her lips a slightly glossy nude colour. She had an oversized white silk blouse over what appeared to be a black satin corset. The blouse was cinched in at the waist with a wide belt which was secured with eye and hook black pencil skirt she wore was knee length and made of leather. On her feet she wore impossibly high black patent leather heels. The toes, Dean decided, were almond shaped, making her entire get up somehow classier than if she'd donned a pair of strappy heels, or a pair with pointed toes.

The expression she wore was decidedly less classy and more feral.

"Some time this century, if it's not too much bother." she said with a sardonic lilt in her voice.

"Out?"

Sam was supposed be the smart one and he was just catching up to the situation now?

Frank gave a little smile."Yes. I want to dance. I want to have a fruity alcoholic drink. And I do not think I should be out at night in a foreign country all by myself." She fixed a terribly innocent looking expression on her face.

"You are not going out by yourself wearing that." Dean said firmly.

Sam blinked and looked over his shoulder as if to say, Exactly when did you become her father?

Dean shrugged and scowled, putting his gun aside.

"Oh good." Whatever dominatrix she'd been channeling disappeared, and Frank's face split in a genuine smile. Dean half expected her to clap her hands in excitement.

XXX

The bar they entered in town was low-lit and clean. The atmosphere was almost more pub-like and had a small dance floor.

"So, Frank," Dean drawled as he and Sam followed her to a booth, "You seeing anyone?"

"I don't really date."

"Why not? You're hot!"

She shrugged like she was joking, "Yeah, but I have standards...you know, whatever..."

"You waiting for The One?" Dean looked a little put out at the thought.

"No, I'm not really looking at all. I mean, school kept me pretty busy for most of my prime dating years. Other students were out drinking and partying and I was studying, volunteering, and working. Not much time for dating. Then, of course, I was in Haiti for 6 months after that mess happened...and well, love may be a battlefield, but I didn't find romance in the disaster."

"Well, there's no disaster in sight right now and all you;re going to be busy doing tonight is having fun, so how 'bout it?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hooking up is not my ideal process of finding my one and only." Frank smiled.

"Hey, you gotta play to win." Dean shrugged.

"Speaking of playing, maybe I should challenge you to a game of pool. A game that would involve you actually teaching me how to play."

"That, I can do." Dean grinned and abandoned Sam at their booth, and steered Frank over to the pool table.

To her credit, Frank spent more time trying to actually learn how to play pool, while Dean did his level best to distract her. Once he realized that she was really trying to beat him, he offered to take bets on her shots. She wasn't good enough to give him a real run for his money, but he had fun taking hers...and she had fun letting him.

"Well you know, I bet I could kick your ass in a game of chess." Frank shot back as Dean pocketed the last ball.

XXX

Dean and Frank had rejoined Sam after their game of pool and were sitting in their booth when a large muscular man with a shaved head and dark coffee coloured skin came over and asked Frank to dance.

She brightened and slid out of the booth from beside Sam. She glanced back at the boys with a grin and let the man lead her to the dance floor.

Dean's eyes narrowed and never left Frank's dancing frame on the floor. Sam was kind of amused at the way that Dean looked like he was going to jump in swinging if anyone looked like they were getting a little too fresh with Frank. He suspected Dean saw Frank as a sort of replacement for Jo. A little sister to look out for, or something.

To be fair, Dean was right in looking out for Frank. She had a sweetness to her that she hadn't quite grown out of, coupled with a mischievous streak that was bound to get her into a situation she couldn't handle, sooner or later. That, and she was too pretty not to have some lech wanting to take advantage of her.

Dean didn't say anything, but Sam could tell that he liked Frank. He was a little surprised, because Dean didn't usually go for girls like her, preferring his connection to be purely physical. Frank was decidedly deeper than that. And it sure as hell was gonna take more than a wink and a smile from Dean to get into her pants. And Sam knew that's what Dean wanted, without a doubt. That's always what Dean wanted.

XXX

Frank went to the ladies room to do what she referred to as 'powdering her nose', which Dean thought was the most ridiculous sounding thing ever, leaving the brothers to their own devices.

"So, I've decided I like her." Dean declared as soon as she was out of earshot.

"You can't sleep with her, she's Bobby's daughter, he'd kill you!" Sam argued.

"No, he won't. He hardly knows her, he hasn't had time to feel all paternal about her yet." Dean waved a dismissive hand.

"That's stupid and you know it." Sam shook his head, "How long did it take for you to feel paternal about Ben Braeden?"

"That's different and you know it." Dean brushed him off.

"It really isn't." disagreed Sam.

"Sam, I haven't had sex in..." Dean stopped to think about it, "Far too long..."

"I can't believe you."

"Believe it, baby brother. It's gonna happen." Dean decided, "Otherwise important parts are going to start falling off." Dean was a big believer in the phrase, 'Use it or lose it.'

"I'm pretty sure I just caught tetanus." Frank said cheerfully after rejoining them from the ladies' room.

"What something else to drink?" Sam asked, squinching his face in concern.

"Nope, I want to dance...and I'm going to dance with you because I can see a gentlemen making a beeline over here who looks like he had a run in with a Mack truck...and life is too short to dance with ugly men."

"I agree." Dean grinned while Sam looked as though he wasn't sure whether to be flattered or not.

XXX

So...this whole plan to get Frank drunk was not as great of a plan as Dean had originally thought.

She was currently regaling the bartender with another one of her 'Canadian jokes'.

"So, this man an' his wife are driving through Canada...they're Americans, eh? So they're driving along, an' all a'sudden the wife said to her hunsband...hubsand...the guy she's married to, eh? She tells him they should stop and ask for directions, 'cause they're lost...Canada's really big, eh? Ok, so they're lost in the barrens...haha, that's a Farley Mowat book...he's Canadian...and she wants to ask for directions. Finally they do, because he knows they're lost-the guy she's married to...not Farley Mowat...'nyways, he stops, because they're in the middle of nowhere...well, not nowhere, 'cause Canada isn't nowhere...it's north of here, you know? It's really big...bigger than the States...even though a bunch of maps make it look like the US is bigger than Canada...but it's not bigger. It goes Russia, Canada, China and then the States. I think that's funny. But Canada has less people living in it. I think it's because sometimes it's cold there and some people like it better when it's sunny. I like the snow and the cold though...it means you get to be cozy and have a fire in your fireplace and make snow angels. Oh! And apple cider...some one should think of putting alcohol in apple cider...because that would probably be really good." Frank mused, and took another pull of her beer.

"So...where was I? Or, more like...where were these Americans? Haha...they were in the middle of Canada, stopping for directions. And there was a man there by the side of the road. There were really big fields on every side of the road. And the American man asked the Canadian man,"Where are we?" And the Canadian man said,"Saskatoon, Saskatchewan." And so then the American man started driving and he turned to his wife and he said, "Wow, we are really lost...that guy di'n' even speak any English!"!"

Frank tilted her head back and giggled in delight,"Isn't that funny! Saskatoon, Saskatchewan? It's a real place in Canada! Can you believe that someone didn't know that? But I think the American man was just made up...he wasn't real...I think he was just in the joke for comic irony...because there is a stereotype that exists that says that Americans are really dumb...but I don't think they're any more dumb than anyone else. There are some really smart people from the States. I mean...my Dad is an American, did you know that? And he's really smart...and there are others...Josiah Willard Gibbs was the first to apply the second law of thermodynamics to the exhaustive discussion of the relation between chemical, electrical, and thermal energy and capacity for external work. He was American, went to Yale an' everything." She said it as though there was something intrinsically American about going to Yale.

"I was going to use Benjamin Franklin as an example as a smart American...but I don't like him. I mean, okay-yes-fine, he made a whole lot of contributions to the scientific community and coined witty phrases like 'Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy,' but he was not a good man...he flirted with all sorts of French aristocrats when he was in France acting as a diplomat establishing Franco-American relations...that was not a proper thing to do."

"I need another drink." Dean said quickly to the bartender when she took a breath. The bartender obliged and gave Dean a look that suggested that he was going to need a drink after they left...maybe even before.

Sam was just staring at Frank, slightly stunned and half-amused at Frank's seeming inability to shut up.

 _Note to self,_ thought Dean, _if I ever want her to talk I just have to ply her with alcohol._

"Oh, I just remembered another funny one...So there was this American who was writing a book about famous churches around the world. He decided to start his book with a chapter on American churches, since that's where he was from. He was going to go all over, and anyways, he started in Orlando, Florida. I can never remember if it's Disneyland or Disney World that's in Florida."

"Disney World is in Florida, Disneyland is in California." Sam supplied.

"Thank you, Sam." she smiled at him brightly, "We-ell, he didn't go to Disney World, but one of the first churches he went into he noticed a gold telephone on the wall with a sign over it saying '$10,000 per call.' The American man was curious and so he went over to the priest of the church and he asked him what the telephone was all about. The priest told him that it was a direct line to heaven and for $10,000 you could talk to God. Anyways, the man went on to the next state, which was Georgia, and when he was in Atlanta he went into another church, and there was the same gold telephone with the same sign. He wanted to know if it was like the phone he saw in Orlando so he asked the pastor there what the phone was for. And he told him that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 he could talk to God. Well, the American traveled up the coast, stopping at the churches along the way, and every time he found a church with the gold telephone with the same sign. Finally when he was in New York he say a sign to Canada and so he decided to travel to see if Canadians had the same golden telephone. He crossed the border and found a church in Toronto and went inside. He found the gold telephone...but the sign was different...instead of charging $10, 000 per call, this church was only charging 10 cents per call.

The American man was very confused and surprised and so he went up to the minister and told him about being all over America and how he had seen the same gold phone in the churches. He explained that all of the clergy had explained to him that the phone was a direct line to heaven, but in every state I went to the price of the call was $10,000. 'Why is it so cheap here?' he asked. And the minister smiled at him and answered."Well, you're in Canada now, and it's a local call.'"

Dean snorted into his beer.

"I know! Isn't that so funny and cute? I laughed so hard when I first heard that. I know it's a little blasphemous...but it's still pretty funny, eh?" Frank grinned.

"Maybe Cas should be looking for God there." Dean muttered to Sam. Sam raised his eyebrows in agreement.

XXX

The evening waned and Frank was several sheets to the wind. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with the alcohol.

She leaned onto Sam's shoulder, propping herself up so that she didn't fall off of her bar stool, "If I have to get my stomach pumped, will you hold my hand?"

"I think that's a sign we should be getting back to Bobby's."

XXX

 _"Quand il me prend dans ses bras._.." Frank was belting out the best drunken version of La Vie En Rose that Sam had ever heard, " _Il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose! Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose!_ "

Dean's knuckles we clenched white on the steering wheel, "What is she even singing? Doesn't she know she's in America?"

 _"C'est toi pour moi. Moi pour toi dans la vie, il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie!"_ Frank slurred cheerfully. _"Et dès que je l'aperçois alors je sens en moi..."_

"Are you nearly finished?" Dean asked her via the rearview mirror.

 _"Mon coeur qui bat!"_ Frank trilled a cheeky finish.

"Thank God!"

"C'mon Dean, she's not that bad a singer."

Dean made a non-committal sound in his throat. It's true, she wasn't. But that wasn't the point. The point was that French is a sexy language. And it was making Dean...uncomfortable. He glanced in the rear-view again, only to find Frank had slumped over, asleep with a dreamy smile on her face.

 


	3. What A Swell Party This Is ~ Bing Crosby & Frank Sinatra

 

Frank did not make breakfast for the men the next morning. She was pretty sure she'd been hit by a stampede of angry buffaloes and there was no way that any sort of edible breakfast was going to come together when it felt like her head was going to fall off if she got out of bed.

Around 11:23 a.m., Sam knocked softly on Frank's door and brought a steaming coffee mug into her room after she made a noise that Sam took to mean 'Come in, I'm still alive.'

"So, did you have fun last night?" Sam's bemused smile was evident in his voice as he regarded her prone position on the bed.

"I can afford to have you killed." came her muffled reply from the pillow.

"Is that a no?"

"I'm not sure I could handle another life experience like that for a while." she rolled over. She looked at her pillow which had dark smears of eye makeup all over it. "Perfect, I must look a real sight for sore eyes..."

"Like a very cute raccoon." Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"You better watch it or you're going to be having eggs tomorrow morning that have been sprayed with mace."

XXX

After multiple doses of aspirin and coffee, Frank was ready to face the day...around 6 p.m.

Bobby had taken it upon himself to fix dinner, and they all sat down to eat a less than healthy meal consisting primarily of poly-unsaturated fats.

Frank retired to her bedroom shortly thereafter.

Dean was walking by Frank's room when he heard snatches of her voice. She seemed to be talking to someone. He stuck his head through the half open door, and realized that Frank was sitting on her bed talking on her cellphone, with her back to the door. He breathed a small sigh of relief that he didn't know he'd been holding.

"No, don't be silly, of course I'm coming back, Steph...I mean, yes, I am thinking about taking a bit of time before committing to a job...but you know that they'll hold those offers until I'm ready to come home. Besides, I can't leave now, I feel like I'm just getting to know him..." she was saying.

"You're right, there is another reason why I'm not ready to leave yet..."

Dean leaned forward.

Frank cocked her head, "Yes, well...two, actually. Brothers."

Dean's eyebrows rose.

"You have an incredibly perverse mind, Steph..." Frank said with equal amounts of disapproval and amusement.

Dean decided he liked the way this Steph girl thought.

"No!" Frank laughed. "But they are really nice. They work with Bobby, sort of. I think we're becoming friends."

"Ok, ok! Yes, alright, I do! But it's a very small crush and I'm handling it." Frank said in a disgruntled tone, "It's totally inappropriate, I'm here for my father, not to embark on some epic romance with a sexy American."

Dean licked his lips and grinned.

"Because this isn't a Harlequin Romance, that's why not!" Frank groaned.

"Stephanie Voortman-Strauss! You're supposed to be giving me sage words of advice, not making unsolicited, lewd suggestions. Why is it that your postpartum hormones make you horny? Let me talk to Brandon instead...he'll be able to tell me the things that a best friend should."

"Yeah, well I'm stealing your husband to be my new best friend, eh?"

"I think you're just antsy to get back into the courtroom to dissolve another marriage, you divorce-lawyer vulture, you."

"No, I don't know, I haven't talked to Aaron since I left, aside from the occasional email. Your little brother clearly has better things to do with his time than email me updates on his life. Tell me."

"Aw, that's great, I'm so happy for them! I have to say, finally! And your parents love Mark-have they set a date yet?"

"Of course, I'll be there! I may not love weddings, but I get dibs on hosting one of the showers anyway..."

"Don't be such a party pooper...you aren't the only one capable of finding true love."

"Listen, I'm going to bed now, so make sure you get them to send me the invitation and let me know what they need me to do. Love you! Buh-bye."

Frank put her phone onto her bedside table and stood up, moving over to the bureau of drawers. Dean retreated further down the hallway and into his room.

Huh. So, Frank has a crush. Interesting.

XXX

Frank was up early on Sunday morning and off to church. When she returned, she found Dean under the Impala fixing a break line while Sam enjoyed the summer sun with an ancient text and a glass of lemonade. After polling the two on lunch choices, she headed inside and set about making the requested sandwiches, humming the tune to one of the catchier hymns she'd sung earlier at the church service.

Bobby called the boys in from the yard when everything was on the table.

They bounded in doors and dutifully washed their hands before sitting down to eat.

XXX

They spent the evening in the livingroom. Frank had picked up a copy of the Argus Leader, which was the local Sioux Falls newspaper, while she was in town. She handed Dean the comics and the obituaries, saved the Business section for herself, and then handed to the rest of the paper to Sam and Bobby.

XXX

Dean and Bobby spent most of Monday working on cars whilst Sam and Frank were inside, up to their ears in research on a case for another hunter. Bobby managed to run the Salvage Yard rather successfully on his own, but Dean loved getting his hands under the hood of a vehicle, and Bobby didn't mind the help or the company.

Dean was elbow deep into a junky '56 Ford pickup truck when Frank wandered out of the house to check up on her father and her friend.

"How goes the battle?" she inquired.

Dean extracted himself from under the hood, "I don't think she's gonna make it, Doc."

"Are you gentlemen interested in lunch? I was going to start something in about 45 minutes or so."

"Yeah, I think Bobby's off looking for a part, but I can ask him when he gets back, if you want."

"All the research is making my head stuffy...I haven't studied this hard since I prepped for my MCATs. Do you mind if I hang out here for a bit?"

"Sure, if you want." Dean shrugged.

They stood looking at each other for a moment. "So," Frank gave a half-smile, "How about those White Sox?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow, but obligingly launched into a spirited monologue about his favourite teams, turning back to the Ford.

"Maybe we should go to a game sometime." she said after Dean rambled happily for about 20 minutes.

Dean looked up from the carburetor, surprised.

"You know, 'buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks'?"

"You follow baseball?"

"Not really. I'm more of a tennis person, myself. I catch the occasional football game-CFL, of course, because it's better..."

"CFL is better than NFL?" Dean scoffed, "I may not watch much football, but I do know that NFL is the superior league."

"NFL is boring and easy. They have a shorter field and an extra down to run the ball." Frank rolled her eyes, "Plus the athletes are grossly overpaid."

"I'm just going to stop talking to you completely." Dean wiped his hands on a rag. "Do you say things just to get a reaction out of me?"

"Maybe." Frank grinned.

"I bet you're a hockey fan, too."

"Only during the Olympics. National pride, blah blah, whatever. It's a stupid game, really, and what's the point of slamming someone into the boards if you're covered in protection? Plus, what's attractive about having your front teeth missing? If you want to watch a real blood-sport, watch rugby. Or girls' field hockey. No, now I prefer tennis, curling, and fencing."

"Fencing?"

"What? I fenced when I was younger, about 14. It's fun. Now I just play tennis."

"And what about curling?"

"I just like watching it."

"Why?"

"Because it's refined."

Dean gestured at her with his rag, "You're a weird one."

"I'm taking that as a compliment. I know you think of me as a fascinating and exotic foreigner, don't deny it."

His eyes crinkled at the edges, catching hold of his smile.

XXX

That night Frank was muttering to herself in French in the kitchen. Reading the recipe aloud, if Dean had to guess. And maybe doing some sort of cooking show commentary, as well.

The result looked and smelled fantastic when it was time to eat.

"The recipe said to put chicken broth in it, but I didn't have any, so I put in red wine." Frank said, pleased at her ingenuity.

"I'm not sure how that's in any ways the same." Sam was skeptical.

"It's liquid." Dean supplied helpfully.

Frank grinned and pointed her serving fork at Dean in agreement.

XXX

Frank was preparing to head to the Good Shepherd on Wednesday when Sam offered to drive her. He had some supplies to pick up while Dean and Bobby were happily occupied with tinkering on the cars in Bobby's garage.

Dean tossed Sam the Impala's keys with the usual threats of disembowelment if the car didn't return in the shape she was currently.

Sam dropped Frank off at the door and left to do his errands. He returned, pleased with his purchases a couple of hours later and parked in from of the counseling center and headed inside to let Frank know that he was there.

The large gymnasium style room was set up with tables and chairs and it looked as though the meal was just coming to an end.

Sam spotted Frank near a corner of the room, leaning over the shoulder of a particularly disenfranchised-looking older man. He was smiling and the sounds of Frank's laughter carried over the crowded room. She patted the man on the shoulder and moved on to the next person, an old woman with the wildest hair Sam had seen since Phil Spector's 2005 trial.

"Can I help you?" a young man with a volunteer tag declaring him to be Jeremy pinned to his t-shirt asked. "There's still some lunch left, I can help you get some if you'd like."

"Oh, no, thanks, Jeremy...I'm good...I'm just here to pick up Frank...uh, Miss Houdin."

"Dr. Houdin is with a client right now, but you can take a seat and wait for her just here, if you'd like." Jeremy said, looking over at Frank with a dew eyed expression.

"Ok, great." Sam smiled and took a seat.

It was another half hour before lunch had finished and the volunteers had cleaned up the hall. Frank caught Sam's eye and waved, motioning that she'd be done shortly.

Finally Frank gathered her jacket and made her way over to Sam. "Sorry it took so long. We had a big crowd today."

"'S'ok." Sam assured her.

"So, I'm thinking it's going to be another quiet night in, how does picking up a film rental sound to you?"

"Sure. I think there's one on the way back to Bobby's. It's not Blockbuster or anything, but I'm sure we can find something."

Sam was right. There was a film rental place on the way back to Bobby's. And it wasn't a Blockbuster.

"I think they filmed on location here for Be Kind, Rewind." Frank chuckled, gesturing to the wide array of VHS tape rentals available.

"If we pick up a Sweded copy, Dean'll kill us." Sam snorted.

"So, The Lion King is out then?" smirked Frank.

"And Driving Miss Daisy."

"Have you seen this one?" Frank held up a tape, "It was Grace Kelly's last film."

"High Society?"

"Trust me, it's a good one."

"I'm sure it is...but Dean's going to want to know why there aren't any monsters in it."

"Monsters are scary." Frank grimaced. "I had nightmares for three nights after I watched the first Lord of the Rings...that fire-y demon that fights the wizard?" she shuddered, "Too scary for me."

"Ok, High Society it is. And Dean can keep his whining to himself." Sam grinned.

"Amen."

XXX

"My mother prefered Frank in the original version of the Manchurian Candidate, Suddenly, and The Detective. I like him in Guys & Dolls and the original Ocean's Eleven." Frank was saying as she pressed the tape into the video player and brought the gigantic bowl of popcorn over to the couch and sat between Sam and Dean. "But I think this one is my favourite."

"Are there any car chases at least?" Dean asked hopefully.

"No."

"Gun fights?"

"Uh, no."

"And absolutely no monsters?" his voice was almost plaintive.

"None at all." Frank looked at him sympathetically. "Sorry, I thought about getting Casa Erotica, but Sam wouldn't let me."

Sam made a surprised squawking in his throat and Dean swallowed a kernel of popcorn down the wrong way and spent a minute and a half coughing up a lung.

"You done dying? The movie's starting." Frank said bemusedly.

XXX

"Rich people are batty." Dean shook his head at the screen.

Frank made a non-committal noise in the back of her throat.

XXX

"Do people actually act like that?" Dean's expression was stunned.

"Yes. In fact, those people aren't even charactures." Frank smiled.

XXX

"More singing?"

"It's a musical, Dean." Sam pointed out.

XXX

"He's going to change his clothes...again? He just changed when he got there!" Dean stared at the scene of Grace by the pool.

"The upper classes do enjoy our costume changes." Frank waved a hand airily.

XXX

"You're lit from within. Bright, so bright." Frank Sinatra's character could be heard saying.

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes.

"They don't speak like that in films anymore." Frank sighed.

"They don't speak like that in real life anymore." Dean corrected.

"More's the pity." Frank hugged her knees to her chest.

"We're out of our minds." Grace Kelly was saying on screen.

"And into our hearts." Frank Sinatra replied.

"I don't know how much more of this poetry I can take." Dean grouched.

Frank pelted him with popcorn, "Shush, this part's almost over."

Despite Dean's whining, Sam was enjoying the film. There were no monsters. Just well-to-do people who twisted their lives into knots without any help from supernatural forces. It reminded him a little of the soap opera he'd watched with Madison. Only, this had music and dance routines.

XXX

"This is the sort of day that history teaches us was better spent in bed." Uncle Willy was saying from the screen.

"I have to agree with you there, Uncle Willy." Dean said.

Sam and Frank exchanged looks. Apparently Dean was really getting into the film now. Stranger things...

XXX

"It wasn't bad." Dean decided when the film ended. "But it would have been better if they blew something up."

"Next time we'll rent Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." Frank smiled bemusedly. "Goodnight, Dean."

"'Night."

"G'night, Frank, Bobby." Sam nodded and followed Dean upstairs.

XXX

Thursday morning Sam announced that he'd found a job, just north of Sioux Falls, in Watertown. It seemed that an angry spirit had been terrorizing the town. It was a simple salt and burn, and they could be back by dinnertime.

Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.

It was well after 11pm when Sam and Dean came through the door. Dean was moving stiffly and Sam held a rag to a bloodied bicep.

"Hey Florence Nightingale, can you get over here please?" Dean crooked a finger in Frank's direction.

Frank transformed the kitchen into a makeshift emergency room and went to work. Her stitching technique was precise and Sam could tell he was going to have very little scarring as a result of her expertise.

"Nice job," Dean commented as he examined her handiwork. He wiggled his eyebrows, "Think you can do anything for my aching muscles?"

"Leave your dirty clothes on the washing machine and I'll draw you a bath." Frank said to him.

"A bath?" Dean's lip curled, and Sam can practically see his brother's thoughts on the matter.

"It would be a completely manly bath. No bubbles. Just 3 cups of Epsom salts to soothe your aching muscles." Frank promised.

"What if I wanted bubbles? I mean, if I'm gonna have a bath, don't you think I should get bubbles?" Dean teased.

"Sure, if you want to smell like lilacs."

"Bring it on." Dean shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the back of the kitchen chair he'd been sitting on.

"I guess that means I have to wait my turn." Sam said from his seat.

"Guess it does." Dean smirked and peeled off his button-down shirt, which was followed immediately by his t-shirt.

"Could you maybe not strip in my kitchen, boy?" Bobby said pointedly.

Frank was looking everywhere except at Dean, who gave Bobby slightly sheepish grin. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was shameless.

XXX

Frank collected Dean's clothes and put them into a laundry basket, leaving it in the laundry room. Then she went upstairs and into her room. She grabbed the bottle of lilac scented bath bubbles and the Epsom salts off of the dresser and headed towards the bathroom.

Dean was waiting with a towel slung around his waist. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and proceeded to doctor the bath.

"Don't get into the bath until it's completely filled...otherwise the bath salts won't have had time to dissolve and you really don't want those finding their way into uncomfortable places." she warned Dean, who made a face.

The steam was rising from the bath, diffusing the cloying scent of lilacs in the air. The stray hairs around Frank's temples started to dampen and curl into ringlets. "I probably should have turned on the fan." She flicked the switch and put a hand to her forehead. Her face was slightly flushed and Dean was amused by her absolute refusal to look anywhere below his neckline.

Sometimes...other times...Dean would catch Frank staring at him.

Not in any way he's used to being stared at by woman. Not in that hungry lustful way. Or even in a way that makes him feel like she's trying to read his mind, trying to understand him.

If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say it was like she was looking at his soul. His body was just window dressing. It made him feel terribly naked. Moreso than he even was now.

"Have a relaxing bath." Frank said as she pulled the door closed behind her. She headed back downstairs. "And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good." she muttered to herself.

"What's that?" Bobby asked when she rejoined them

"Nothing." Frank smiled, "Nothing at all."

XXX

Frank tucked a note and small toy battleship in with Dean's fresh laundry.

_So that your next bath is manly._

XXX

"The Jag was making a funny sound the other day, I was wondering if I could get you to help me take a look at it." Frank said at breakfast to Dean. "I was going to have the mechanic at the gas station take a look at it, but if I can figure out what's wrong and fix it myself, I'd rather not pay someone else to do it."

"You could fix the car yourself?" Bobby asked.

"Well, you know, I can handle the basics. I can pump gas, top up the oil, and you know, change the carburetor."

Sam looked impressed.

Bobby gave her a pair of cover-alls to use that make her look like Dopey from the Seven Dwarves until she rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. The elasticized waistline of the coveralls hung almost down to her knees and she had to roll up the cuffs of the pants so that she wouldn't trip.

"Queen Elizabeth is skilled in the art of automotive maintenance...and I don't think it's appropriate for a lady to be completely helpless."

"So you actually know what you're doing around cars?" Dean's expression on his face was a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Well, you know, it's kind of like surgery." Frank pointed out, "Only easier."

"Easier?" Dean seemed slightly offended.

"Do you work on the cars while they're running?" Frank picked up a socket wrench to emphasize her point.

"Well, no..."

"Well, doctors don't take the keys out of the ignition when we do the tune-ups." Frank continued, "Which is probably why they pay doctors more money."

Dean conceded that she probably had a point.

XXX

The next day, Frank informed Bobby she was going to drive into town to test out the repairs she'd made on the Jag with Dean.

"I'm coming with you." Dean piped up.

Frank inclined her head in acknowledgement, "I just have one rule. Driver picks the music. Passenger keeps his mouth closed."

Dean's jaw dropped epically and Sam couldn't help but snort in laughter.

"I'm actually going into town to meet a friend at her dance class." Frank said, "Mary-Lynne, from the Good Shepherd, invited me to be her 'friend' for her "Bring A Friend' class. I guess it's to drum up membership, or something. It's about an hour long. Do you have any errands to run while I'm there?"

"I'm sure I can find something to do."Dean shrugged.

XXX

Frank let Dean take the Jaguar as she entered the dance studio. "Remember, it's about an hour, so have fun."

Dean nodded and drove off.

XXX

Truth be told, there wasn't much to do in downtown Sioux Falls. It was a little early to go to a bar, so Dean quickly got bored and turned the car in the direction of the dance studio. He figured he could hang out there. Dancers were hot.

He parked the car in front of the studio and went inside. There was no one at reception, but a fast paced dance beat was coming from down the hall from an open door. Dean followed the music and saw that the room had mirrors along the one wall. The female musician was wailing about love taking over.

Dean poked his head through the door and saw Frank across the room wearing bright blue boy shorts and a black racer back tank top, with her feet bare. What she was wearing hardly registered because Frank was also hanging upside down, legs wrapped around a dancer pole, her arms extended out in a sort of 'ta-da!' pose.

"Sweet Jesus!" Dean exclaimed, "Frank?"

"Dean!" Frank exclaimed, dismounting gracefully. She flipped her hair, which hung loose around her shoulders, out of her face and jogged over, "I told you that the class wouldn't be over for an hour. Did you finish all your errands already?"

"Your dance class is pole dancing?" Dean ignored her question. His eyes strayed to the other women in the class. There were about seven others and they all wore variations of what Frank had on, some with sports bras or halters. A few wore high heels, others were barefoot, like Frank. One of them turned of the CD player.

"Yes. I took classes back in Baltimore when I was doing my residency at Johns Hopkins." Frank smiled and ran her fingers through her hair, "I took ballet as a girl and this is sort of like ballet with a barre that's vertical."

"Pole dancing?" Dean was stunned and sceptical.

"It's really good exercise and it's more fun than going for a jog." Frank shrugged. "Plus ballerinas tend to be rail thin, whereas pole dancing doesn't discriminate against curves. I didn't take too kindly to being refered to as the 'Busty Ballerina' as a young girl."

Dean absolutely did not look at Frank's breasts when she said 'curves'. Not at all. Ok, maybe for a split second. But, mostly, he was doing an excellent job at keeping his eyes trained on hers.

"Hey Frank! Tell your boyfriend there's no outside shoes allowed in the studio!"

"You should probably wait out in the reception area." Frank said, glancing over her shoulder, "This is a private class and the girls look a little nervous."

"If I took my shoes off, do you think they'd let me stay?" Dean finally shook himself out of the mild shock he had been in.

Frank shook her head, "I doubt it." She ushered him back into the main lobby and disappeared through the door again.

Dean flipped through the dance and health magazines that were laying out in the sitting area, but the music from the mirrored room was much too enticing. He found himself leaning against the frame of the door, his 'outside shoes' still on the carpeted hallway. The song that was blaring from the cd player was annoying enough that Dean probably would have fired a round into the speakers if Frank had allowed him to bring his gun with him. As it was, he was sufficiently distracted by the sight of the dancers to pay much attention to the female singer trilling happily about California girls.

The women were all following the same sort of routine, with various levels of success. Dean sincerely hoped that some of these women weren't actually strippers, and if they were, that they hadn't quit whatever day job that they certainly must also have to make a living.

His thoughts were only briefly occupied with concern for the livelihood of the other dancers before his eyes zeroed in on Bobby's daughter.

Those childhood ballet lessons had served her well. She was graceful, her movements fluid and strong.

She laughed happily as she swung around the pole, hair flowing freely behind her.

 _She should wear her hair loose like that more often,_ Dean thought to himself.

Frank sashayed beside her pole, flipped her hair saucily at the mirror and shimmied over to the pole again. She caressed the metal with one hand, letting out a self-deprecating giggle. Dean couldn't hear her over the music, but he was still able to appreciate the resulting bounce of her chest.

Dean gave a little sigh of contentment, _God Bless America and all her assets._

XXX

The class ended and Frank headed over with a mildly reproachful, yet amused look.

"So," Dean's eyes twinkled, "Do you ever moonlight?"

"As a dancer?" Frank chuckled, "No. It's just something fun I do for myself." She tilted her head, "And whoever I eventually end up with."

Dean blinked and shook his head, grinning, "You are one in 6 billion."

"I'm just going to go change, I'll meet you in the car." Frank left for the dressing rooms.

As soon as she was out of sight, Dean flipped open his phone and pressed speed dial to call Sam.

"You think she's got impressive cleavage on a good day? You should see her when she's upside down-"

"Dean, I'm hanging up on you."


	4. It Is Well With My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be the chapter tagged for non-con. Read at your own peril.

 

Frank made plans to go out shopping after her shift at the Good Shepherd on the first Wednesday of September. She asked the boys if they wanted to come along, but Dean was already happily working on the Impala and Sam knew better than to tag along with a woman on a shopping trip. He's gone with Jessica once and had ended up carrying a million bags from store to store while she tried on every piece of clothing in the mall. It was the most boring day of his life. He shuddered at the memory. It had resulted in some amazing s--yeah, but it's not like Frank was into Sam that way, right? So there would be absolutely no benefit to him accompanying her.

Frank told them she didn't know when she'd be back, probably she'd be out all day, but if she was back in time she would make them dinner.

"We can fend for ourselves for one night." Dean assured her.

She nodded, smiled, and drove off in the Jaguar.

"Fuckin' cheerful Dudley Do-right." Dean muttered with no trace of malice.

XXX

Sam headed upstairs to find Frank. He had seen her drive up to the house while he and Dean were having a friendly competition of target practice in the scrap yard. She had brought bags from her shopping trip from the trunk of the Jaguar and it looked like she'd had a pretty successful day in the city.

The door to her room as half open and Sam placed a hand on the knob to swing it further, but stopped at the sight that met his eyes.

She was clad only in a skimpy pair of very sexy black panties and a matching bra. She was balancing on one foot, pulling a patent leather high heel onto the other while she peeked down into the yard from the window at the far side of the room.

As Sam watched her stand by the window, he considered the fact that it had been months since he'd been with Ruby. And dammit, it had been a frustrating few months.

And now here was this woman, standing in fuck-me heels and expensive looking lingerie-did women outside of Victoria's secret catalogues actually wear lingerie like that? Apparently, she did.

All that black silk and lace in contrast to her ivory skin was affecting Sam. His jeans felt a little too tight right now. Scratch that, a lot too tight.

With her shoes now firmly on, she stood with her hands on her hips, weight shifted to a position that begged a camera to pan cinematically from the floor, up her legs, to her lace clad ass. In lieu of said camera, Sam let his eyes run up and down her body instead, admiring the orange-pink glow from the setting sun as it blurred her petite frame.

"Sam? Are you going to just stand there or are you going to come in and fuck me?" came a wry and teasing drawl.

Ok, so she could see his reflection in the window. Served him right for being a peeping tom-wait, did she just ask what he thought she just asked?

She pirouetted slowly and posed her question again, flipping her hair from her brow.

"Uh..."

"Is this not ok?" she gestured to her get-up.

"A-aren't we going to eat dinner soon?" Sam stammered.

She grinned cheekily, "Can't we have dessert first?"

He didn't remember closing the door behind him and locking it. Nor did he remember crossing the room and pushing her up against the wall. It wasn't until he had pulled away from her lips to take a gulp of air did he realize that these things had transpired.

He gazed down at her swollen lips with half-hooded eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Don't ask me that again," was her reply as she brought their lips crashing back together.

XXX

Dean and Bobby heard a thump come from the second floor as they sat at the kitchen table.

Bobby had an inscrutable expression on his face, but took another gulp from the tumbler he was nursing.

Dean winced. Who the hell was Sam to screw around with the daughter of a man that had become a second father to them? If you squinted it was almost like incest.

"Should we make dinner? We should make dinner." Dean said, getting up from his chair abruptly.

This whole situation went well passed awkward with them just sitting there listening to their family members moaning in passion...and apparently attempting to break through the ceiling, if the sounds of crashing furniture were any indication.

"Not hungry." Bobby muttered, taking another swig from his glass.

 _Yeah, I've pretty much lost my appetite too_ , thought Dean.

XXX

The sun had fully set by the time she rolled off of Sam. The smell of sex was heavy in the room.

Their bodies glistened with sweat and other bodily fluids and Sam felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

He watched her idly as she scooted over to the edge of the bed and pulled open the drawer from the bedside table.

"You smoke?" Sam asked in surprise as she lit up a menthol cigarette and took a long drag.

She looked at him sideways, "Only after mind-blowing sex."

"You think we should go downstairs for real food now?" Sam dimpled in her direction, touching the tender spot on the left side of his jaw where she had bitten him during their tryst.

"What? And face Daddy dearest and Big Brother?" she quirked an eyebrow.

Sam's face fell. He hadn't exactly thought of that when this had all started.

She chuckled darkly, "That's what I thought."

But Sam's stomach rumbled in protest.

"Oh come on, I guess we'd better get dressed and join the fam-jam for dinner." she laughed.

XXX

Bobby and Dean were finally graced with the presence of a post-coital pair. Sam had simply redressed in the clothes he had shed a little under 2 hours ago, while his partner in crime had slid into an impossibly tight pair of black jeans, a lacy plum camisole that dipped low over her breasts and a cropped black leather jacket.She left her hair down, hanging in loose waves around her shoulders.

"The result of your shopping trip?" Sam gestured to the uncharacteristic ensemble.

She smiled in concession and led him into the kitchen.

Bobby was studiously searching the bottom of his glass and Dean was putting the finishing touches on the Kraft Dinner. When Dean turned around he hesitated for a brief second, frowning at the two. He placed the pot of KD on the table and announced grandly, "Dinner is served. How nice of you to join us."

Bobby poured himself another drink and downed it in a couple gulps, grimacing.

"Pour me a drink, Daddy?" she drawled with saccharine sweetness.

His eyes flickered to her and he frowned, but obliged.

She accepted the glass and downed it.

The glass clattered to the table and she threw her head back, screaming in pain. A steamy vapor emanated from her mouth.

"What the hell?" Sam pushed his chair back in surprise.

"Meg." Dean said simply, jumping to his feet.

"Hello, boys." she spluttered with malice, gasping in agony.

"Oh _Hell_ no!" Sam exclaimed in deep dismay.

A truly evil cackle emitted from Frank's lips. "Oh hell yes, Sammy."

" _Dude!_ What is it with you and monsters?" Dean demanded.

"I didn't know she was possessed!" Sam wailed in protest.

Dean threw his hands into the air, growling in exasperation.

"Get her to the Devil's Trap, boys!" Bobby shouted as he doused her body with the last of his Jack Daniels.

Steaming and burning, she was dragged into the livingroom and shoved into a chair. Dean quickly secured her with ropes and Sam stood back shaking his head in horror.

Meg shook off the last of the burning holy water and smirked up at the trio in front of her. "So boys, now that you've caught me, what will you do with me?"

"Why are you possessing her?" Dean demanded.

"Well, your angelic lapdog, Castiel, destroyed the body I was using the last time we met. I had to find a replacement." Meg cackled, peering up at them from behind the curtain of Frank's light brown hair.

"So you needed a new meat suit just to hook up with Sam?" Dean demanded.

Sam blanched.

"I always knew we'd be good together, Sammy." Meg hissed cruelly.

Sam stared at the figure in front of him in horror.

"You have such difficulty resisting the charms of demons, don't you, Sammy?" she continued.

"Shut up!" Dean pointed a finger warningly at her.

"It hurts, doesn't it, Dean?" Meg turned her attention to him. "Knowing that once again Sam has chosen a demon..."

"I didn't know..." Sam moaned again to Dean, praying he would believe him.

"Shut up!" Dean repeated. Sam couldn't tell if he was talking to Meg, or to him, since he was still looking at Meg. "Now tell us why you're here."

"Well, what's it gonna be, Deano? Shut up or spill?"

"Why are you really here?" Bobby growled.

"It's open season on the Winchesters!" Meg exclaimed gleefully.

"This is not news to us." Dean said grimly.

"Maybe I just enjoying screwing with your heads..."

"That can't be all that this is about." Sam rejected this outright.

"Why not? I love see you all twisted up in knots over this, Sammy." Meg said, "What's that saying? 'No matter how good the sex was, if you regret it, then it was bad sex'...and you definitely are going to regret it...which just warms my heart, or you know, whatever..."

"You're sick." Sam said.

"Demon!" Meg sang.

"Why are you possessing her?" Bobby repeated, almost calmly.

"Because I can taunt you all you want and you won't dare hurt me since it means hurting her. Because even after I'm gone, the seeds of unrest and distrust will still be planted among you. Because it's fun."

"Fun? You're hurting this innocent girl because it's fun?" Dean closed his eyes, "Of course you are. I'm not surprised."

"I gotta say, I was surprised about something." Meg grinned.

"And what could that possibly be. Hell bitch?" Dean snapped.

"The sex." Meg smiled wickedly. "I would have expected wild and kinky sex from you, Dean...but Sammy? He's just an animal in the bedroom."

"I do not want to hear this." Bobby muttered.

"That makes two of us." Dean agreed.

"She's going to be feeling this for days...you're rough, Sam. Hey, don't get me wrong, clearly we both enjoyed it. You know what? We should do this again sometime. And look at this, I'm already tied up...c'mon Sammy, let's get physica-"

Sam slapped her across the face. "Shut up, stop talking!"

"Sam! Don't!" Bobby said sharply.

Meg worked her jaw-not broken, but hell, she'd felt that one for sure. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, tasting blood. Yup, that was going to swell up nicely. She smiled, continuing to taunt, "And Sam, didn't Daddy ever teach you to cloak the joker before you poke her?"

"God!" Dean slapped a hand over his face.

"Don't be a fool, cover your tool?" Meg suggested gleefully, "Or how about, Condomize, then womanize?"

"Stop!" Sam begged, "Just stop!"

"Surely Dean taught you about the birds and the bees, even if Daddy neglected to...I bet Dean would remember to wrap the rod to please her bod..." Meg's grin was ferocious, "Dean probably single handedly supports the condom business."

"That's enough." Dean growled.

"Hit a nerve, did I, Deano?" Meg batted her eyelashes, "Don't be so sensitive...it's very responsible of you to practice safe sexing...too bad Sammy didn't pick up on that...guess university didn't do him much good."

"I said enough!" Dean shouted.

"You're right, these prophylactic entendres are wearing a bit thin..." Meg giggled.

Bobby dumped more holy water on her.

"Ahhh! Alright, already!"

"Less talk more exorcising." Bobby suggested.

"No, I want to know what her plan is." Dean gritted out.

"I told you my plan, Deano." Meg chuckled low in her throat, "Any day I can cause Sammy serious mental anguish, I consider a successful day. Nice and simple, isn't it? I like plans that cut right to the heart of the matter. Who needs elaborate schemes to feel good about themselves? I sure don't."

"On second thought, just send her back. She's giving me a headache." Dean growled.

"I swear I didn't know, Dean." Sam was close to a full breakdown.

"I forgot what a whiner you could be, Sammich..." Meg rolled her eyes.

"I'm assuming she doesn't have a binding link...?" Bobby asked, fully intending on starting the exorcism as soon as he got someone's say so.

"As you may have heard, he 'had no idea!' " Meg mocked Sam, "So clearly he didn't see one...doesn't mean there isn't one. Oh my, you'll have to search me." she grinned savagely.

"Just read the exorcism...if she has one, Meg will stay put...if she doesn't, well, then Meg has a one way southbound ticket with her name on it." Dean said grimly.

 _"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._ " Bobby recited.

Meg started to pant heavily, writhing in the chair. Short little laughs were forced out of her in pain.

_"Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"_

Frank's head was thrown back and the black smoke of Meg came rushing out of her mouth in an unearthly scream. Frank's head fell forward heavily, unconscious.

Wordlessly, Dean moved forward and untied her, he lifted her from the chair and carried her over to the couch.

Sam retrieved a damp cloth from the kitchen and dabbed at Frank's forehead after Dean had laid her out. He had gone back into the kitchen to freshen the cloth when Frank began to stir. She blinked open her grey eyes and hazily looked over at Bobby and Dean who were staring at her anxiously. Her chest heaved in rising panic, and she sat bolt upright, wincing at the sudden headrush.

Dean, expecting her panic, thrust a metal pail out to her. She grabbed it with both hands and vomited violently into it. Choking, and sobbing fearfully, she clutched onto the pail like a lifeline.

After Bobby was satisfied that Frank had finished vomiting, he gently took the pail away and set it on the ground at the end of the couch, murmuring words of comfort as she valiantly tried to stave off hyperventilation while she curled into a tiny ball on the couch.

Sam had come back from the kitchen and held out the dampened cloth for her. She glanced up at him as she got her breathing under control. Her eyes went wildly wide and she jerked back from him in fright, her nostrils flaring and her breathing becoming erratic again.

"Hey, hey, hey..." Dean murmured, taking the cloth from Sam and moving towards Frank. He squatted in front of the couch, cupped her face and pressed the cloth to her temple. "Shh, shh, shh, shh. It's ok, no one's gonna hurt you. Hey, hey..." he crooned as Frank's face crumpled and fat tears spilled from her eyes. She was half-successful in muffling a wail that escaped her throat.

Her shoulders quaked and not knowing what else to do...and partially because he didn't think he could watch her break down completely...Dean dropped the cloth and pulled Frank into a tight hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and moaned out her sobs, clutching at the front of his shirt like a child.

"Maybe you should take her up to her room." Bobby said quietly.

Dean nodded silently, his arms still around Frank. He slid his right arm under the crook of her knees and with some awkward maneuvering (mainly because Frank had latched onto him like a spider monkey) Dean lifted her, his thighs protesting as he rose from his squatting position.

XXX

Frank untangled herself from Dean when the reached the top of the stairs. "I think I can walk now." she said meekly.

"Are you...? Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head, "I'm going to take a shower."

Dean gave a short nod, "We'll all be downstairs, just holler if you need anything."

XXX

"Sam, what the hell _was_ that?" Dean demanded when he came back downstairs in the livingroom.

"What?"

"She jumped away like you were going to kill her or something." Dean insisted, "What the _hell_ was that all about?"

"Well, Sam _did_ just have angry demon sex, so maybe that has something to do with it." Bobby said gruffly. "The human is still in there during a possession, lest we forget."

Sam looked horrified. "I basically just raped her, thanks to Meg." He felt bile rising up his throat. He made it to the kitchen and threw up in the sink.

Dean sank into the couch, a hand scrubbing at his face in exhaustion.

XXX

Frank leaned over the tub and turned on the water in the shower. As steam began to rise, she shed her clothes, stepping into the tub, under the scalding stream. She just stood there until the heat of the water turned her pale skin bright pink. Eventually the water ran cold, but for several minutes she remained under the icy shower.

Finally she turned the water off, yanked the curtain back and stepped out of the tub. She was wrapping the towel around her body when she noticed out of the corner of her eye the beginnings of a bruise near her left hip. She held the towel open and noted that there was an identical discoloration forming on her other hip as well. Further examination of the skin around her midsection resulted in the discovery of imprints of four evenly spaced bruises on her lower back near her sides. Frank blinked. Handprints.

She couldn't even finish her train of thought when she felt her stomach rebelling again and she retched fruitlessly, as there was nothing left in her stomach.

She slid to the floor, the towel pooling beneath her. She hugged her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, gasping silent sobs.

XXX

Sam trudged up the stairs. He had to make Frank understand how terribly sorry he was for...everything.

He heard the fan from the bathroom at the end of the hall and realized that Frank must still be inside. He turned down the hallway and pushed open Frank's door. He'd just wait for her in here.

His nose wrinkled as he picked up the lingering scent of their earlier activities. Something in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he turned to look at the rumpled bedsheets. Looking closer he saw what had grabbed his attention.

Faint stains of fresh blood on the white cotton.

Sam stumbled back a few steps, mortified at the sight that met his eyes. His horror at himself was renewed as he realized that those stains meant one of two things, and likely both. He either took Frank's virginity, or he was rougher with her than he'd thought.

XXX

The tears had dried in tracks down her face by the time Frank had calmed herself. She splashed cold water on her face from the sink, and wrapped the large towel securely around her body. She left the clothes she had pulled off for her shower on the floor of the bathroom. She was exhausted and all she wanted to do was curl up asleep, and never wake up.

She left the bathroom and padded down the hall to her room.

Frank walked in and screamed at the sight of Sam. Her legs gave out from under her and she scrambled frantically over to the corner beside the chest of drawers, a hand out, as if to physically ward Sam off.

The sound of Dean and Bobby galloping up the stairs came from down the hall, and they burst through the door, shotguns full of rocksalt in one hand, flasks of holy water in the other. "What happened?" Bobby demanded.

"Nothing, I just, I was waiting in here to apologize and she came in and..." Sam gestured weakly at Frank's quivering form in the corner.

"What the hell, Sammy?" Dean exclaimed, tossing the gun and flask onto the bed, turning and dropping to his hands and knees in front of Frank, "Could you fucking _be_ more stupid?" he threw over his shoulder at Sam.

Frank's eyes were wildly wide and she was shaking like a leaf between the wall and the dresser.

Dean crawled towards her on his hands and knees. "Frank..."

She moaned weakly, but trained her eyes on Dean, rather than staring fearfully up at Sam.

Bobby lowered his weapons.

Dean knew instinctively that while he could reach out to Frank, he shouldn't touch her. Not yet, anyways. And any pet names that came to mind died on his lips. She wasn't going to respond well to being called Baby.

 _No one puts Baby in a corner..._ Dean thought, biting his lip to curb his totally inappropriate defense mechanism to quote films, _Not the time, Dean, focus._

Her lips were drawn into a straight line, her jaw clenched, as though she was fighting to keep from crying. She was blinking rapidly, her eyes swimming in unshed tears. She was breathing shortly through her flaring nostrils.

She was going to start hyperventilating any second, and Dean could only handle so many things at one time.

"Breathe," he urged her gently, "Frank, just breathe."

She nodded quickly, exhaling a forceful and shaky breath through her mouth. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she clutched her towel up around her chest, realizing exactly how very close to naked she was.

"Sam, get me a blanket...no, not _that_ one." Dean barked as Sam moved towards the bed.

"There's a fresh one in the hall closet." Bobby said.

Sam dashed out and quickly returned with an old blue and white patchwork quilt. When he bent forward to hand the blanket to Dean, Frank pressed herself back into the corner even further, pressing against the wall, as if she was trying to melt through it.

Dean snatched away the quilt, tossing a glare in Sam's direction. He unfolded the blanket, holding it open and placing it over Frank, so that she was covered from neck to toe.

Sam was reminded of the time when there was a mouse under the dresser at a motel they were staying at as children, while Dad was on a hunt. Dean was 13 and Sam was 8. Sam wanted to keep the mouse as a pet, so Dean had cajoled the creature with food and soothing noises, low in his throat, just like he was doing with Frank right now.

"You can take her to my room, while we clean up here." Bobby said.

Dean nodded in agreement and pulled a shaking Frank into his arms, helping her stand. He briefly considered slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but decided against it when he took another look at her. He wrapped a hand around her back, and under her knees."I got you." He said reassuringly and took her down the hall.

Bobby sighed and collected the salt gun and holy water flask from the bed and set all the weapons on the desk. "Let's get clean sheets on this bed so she can sleep here tonight." he said tiredly.

"Bobby, I..." Sam stumbled awkwardly, "I'm _so_ sorry..."

Bobby shot him an unreadable look and just nodded shortly, "Come on."

XXX

Dean rejoined Bobby and Sam in Frank's bedroom as they finished re-making up the bed.

"So, who else could use a stiff drink?" Bobby asked as they headed back downstairs.

"That would be me." Dean said. "Hey, I'm just going to grab one of those anti possession charms you gave us a while back. They're in the car. For Frank, you know? Just in case."

Bobby nodded in agreement."Good idea."

XXX

Once Dean had retrieved an anti-possession charm from the Impala he took it upstairs for Frank to put on. She accepted it wordlessly and pulled it over her head.

"I think I'm going to take another shower." she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

"Ok. We'll be downstairs. Um," Dean hesitated and pulled his flask from his pocket. "You should take this, to steady your nerves."

Frank took the flask and set it on the bedside table, and then moved soundlessly into the hall towards the bathroom.

Dean sighed and headed back downstairs. "Frank's trying to drown herself in the shower again." he reported, pointed to the ceiling and the familiar hiss of the water from the showerhead.

XXX

By the third day the three men were at a total loss at how to help Frank. She hardly spoke at all. She remained in her room, eating only when Dean brought her a tray of food...and even then only when he begged her to eat.

"Please don't make me," her lower lip trembled on one occasion. "Don't force me."

Dean was taken aback. He blinked as he realized the phrasing she'd used. The loss of control that she'd experienced during her possession was causing her to control the little things that she could now that Meg had been exorcised.

"Ok, it's ok." he said softly, but he left the tray on her bedside table. When he returned to pick it up while Frank was napping, he noted with some satisfaction that one of the pieces of toast was gone. Not much, but not nothing.

XXX

Sam avoided Frank's room. He'd gone in to bring her food on the first day, but she jumped back with a look of horror in her eyes. She remained skittish around him, and when she passed by him on the way to the bathroom, her eyes would track him apprehensively as she pressed herself along the wall.

Dean saw this once and pulled Sam aside after Frank had closed the door. "What the hell did you _do_ to her, Sammy?"

Sam frowned and shrugged, "You know what happened, we-had sex."

"She looks at you like you are going to beat her to death. Whatever you did wasn't just sex."

"Ok, so maybe we were a little rough."

Dean got a stricken look on his face, he really didn't need to think about Sammy having rough sex.

XXX

Sam was doing an excellent job of beating himself up over his unintentional sexual assault on Frank. Sam was superb at self-recrimination. In fact, for all Dean knew, Sam probably figured that the melting of the polar ice-caps, Britney Spears' life implosion, and the current economic crisis were all somehow his fault.

It was exhausting Dean, but he vehemently protested Sam's assertions at every turn.

It was true that Sam's anger scared Dean a little. He was just so violent about it sometimes.

XXX

Dean perched at the foot of Frank's bed after he'd set the tray on the bedside table, "Can I get you anything else?"

"I'm not hungry." Frank mumbled.

"You have to eat, or at least drink something, Frank."

"Maybe the only sensible thing to do is to drown myself like Ophelia." she replied despondently.

"Listen, most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then your mother is killed by a demon causing your father to uproot your family and take it on the road hunting supernatural monsters, then your brother leaves you for college, then your father leaves and you're all alone, you reunite with your brother, his girlfriend is killed by the same demon that killed your mother, you find your father, you almost die in a car crash, your father is killed by the demon, your brother tells you about his crazy psychic visions which makes him a target to other hunters, you find out that your father sold his soul to the demon that killed him to save your life, your brother gets possessed by another demon and goes on a murderous rampage and doesn't remember a thing, your brother is killed in front of you and you sell your soul to get him back but only get a year to live, the gates of Hell open and you kill the demon who murdered your family, you start living like you're dying which freaks your brother out, you find out that you might have a kid only to be told he's not yours, you die about 300 times because an angel that you think is just a trickster is playing with your brother's head, you find out that a crazy demon wants you and your brother dead more than most demons want, you get killed by Hellhounds in front of your brother and spend forty years in Hell being tortured and then torturing other Hell-bound souls which breaks the first seal on the road to setting Lucifer free, you're pulled out of Hell by an angel and informed that God has plans for you, you catch 'ghost sickness' and almost die...again, you find out that your brother has been using his big bad psychic powers under the tutelage of a seriously twisted demon while you were in Hell, you meet a prophet of the Lord who knows all about your secrets and who is writing about your life, your brother breaks the last seal which sets the Devil free on earth, you find out that you and your brother are vessels for the angels Michael and Lucifer respectively, you are sent to the possible future by another angel and see that your brother has accepted his role as Lucifer's vessel and that he will kill the future you, your plan for killing Lucifer with the gun that has been known to kill all supernatural beings fails miserably, you and your brother are ambushed by hunters and killed...which somehow sends you both to Heaven where you find out from an angel that God doesn't care anymore, you get sent back to earth, the apocalypse finally comes to a head and then you die. Maybe."

"Well, gee, are you trying to make me feel better?" Frank nestled further under the covers, "Because it's really not working."

"I'm just saying that bad things happen...a lot. And you can't just hide under the covers for the rest of your life." Dean gestured.

"Because your way of life sounds so much better." Frank muttered, turned to face away from Dean and pulled the covers over her head.

XXX

_"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way..."_

Dean heard the strains of a sweet soprano voice drifting down the hall way and he rolled off of the bed and quietly padded down the hall.

 _"When sorrows like sea billows roll..."_ The sorrow in Frank's voice was so full that it seeped though the door.

_"Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul."_

Dean could tell that all is damn well not well with her soul. Could hear the pain shaking in each note, and his heart ached for her.

_"It is well, with my soul. It is well, it is well, with my soul."_

Dean leaned against the frame of the door, debating whether or not he should knock. He didn't do chick flick moments, but dammit! this girl, woman, person was so vocally in agony that it gave him pause.

_"Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, and hath shed His own blood for my soul."_

Dean's eyes had drifted closed and he tried to find the blessed assurance that Frank was seeking.

_"My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!"_

He pressed a hand against the wood of the door as if to send comfort into the room without actually having to enter.

_"But, Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait, The sky, not the grave, is our goal; Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord! Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!"_

Holy crap! Angel!

She just sang about an angel.

Castiel.

Dean didn't know why he didn't think of him sooner. Here they were trying to navigate their way through the proverbial minefield of a supernatural crisis and they never thought to bring in the big guns.

Dean stepped away from the door and fled downstairs to run this theory by Sam, who looked a little surprised that Dean had been the one to think of this first. Screw him, Dean had a brain too.

Bobby also agreed that maybe a little communion with the heavenly host would do Frank some good. His opinion of Castiel had greatly improved since Cas had brought him back to life after Lucifer snapped his neck.

So Dean flipped open his cellphone and called Cas's number.

XXX

Castiel answered his cellphone.

"Cas, we have a situation. We're at Bobby's." Dean said, before the angel could even offer a salutation.

And of course, within moments, Castiel was at Bobby's too.

"Thank God you're here, Cas...we're in the middle of a small crisis." Dean said as soon as he saw Cas.

Cas looked at him in concern and confusion. Dean didn't appear to be injured. The angel turned to look at Sam, who was sitting on the couch...he didn't seem to have any injuries either.

"Long story short, Bobby's daughter found him, and then she was hit by a demon roofie and well...Sam...and...we don't know what to do." Dean started off intending to be succinct...and failing.

"What," Castiel needed to clarify, "Is a 'demon...roofie'?"

"She was possessed." Sam said, looking slightly green, "By Meg."

"And what did she do while she was possessed?" Cas frowned at Meg's name.

Dean couldn't look at Castiel. Or Bobby. Or Sam. So he looked at the floor.

Sam was looking balefully at Castiel, but he too was unable to voice what happened.

Bobby knew that neither of the Winchesters were going to be able to verbalize the situation delicately. "She was intimate with Sam." He said gruffly, quickly.

Castiel didn't say anything. Didn't do anything. Just stood there. Processing, apparently.

"Fornication is a sin." Castiel agreed, choosing his words carefully, clearly still not fully understanding why he had been called to Bobby's. There was no love lost between Castiel and Sam. Only months earlier Cas had called Sam an abomination. Of course, Cas had been very drunk at the time.

"We exorcised Meg when we realized what had happened." Dean was able to find his words again. "But she's been in her room ever since. She hardly eats. She can hardly be around Sam... and yesterday she was saying some shit about how she was going to drown herself like Ophelia...who the hell is Ophelia?"

"Oh God." Sam said.

Cas didn't even bother chastising him about blasphemy.

"What? 'Oh God' what?" Dean demanded.

"Ophelia is the character in _Hamlet_." Bobby said roughly.

"Like Shakespeare's _Hamlet_?" Dean vaguely remembered that it was not one of the plays he was supposed to have been studying in highschool. _Romeo and Juliet,_ he remembered.

"Yeah...she goes mad after the death of her father and sings songs about death and a maiden losing her virginity. She takes a herb that has powerful abortive properties. Then she falls into a brook and drowns." Bobby extrapolated.

"Well, it's been debated whether her drowning was accidental or if it was suicide." Sam pointed out.

Dean waved his hand to clear the inconsequential scholarly mumbo-jumbo from the air. "Wait, are you saying that Frank said that thing about drowning herself like Ophelia because she's pregnant and so she's going to kill herself?"

"She is not with child." Cas said.

"What? How do you even _know_ that?" Dean said.

"There are only four souls on this property."

"Of _course_ you would know that." Dean muttered, in half-exasperation.

"Well maybe someone should let her know that before we have to put her on a suicide watch." Sam said, looking relieved.

Dean glanced sidelong at his brother. Huh. _He_ hadn't even _considered_ the possibility of Sam getting Frank pregnant. Clearly _Sam_ had been agonizing over it.

He thought Meg had just been taunting them about the lack of condoms thing. Maybe he was going to have to have the safe sex talk with Sammy. Again. He did the first time...Dad certainly wasn't going to. Sam was in...grade 6? Clearly he needed a refresher course.

"We were hoping for some divine intervention." Bobby said pointedly, trying to get them all back on track.

"From me?" Castiel asked

"You know 'tidings of comfort and joy'?" Dean prompted.

Castiel still wasn't entirely sure what they wanted from him, so he felt it best to speak with the girl. Perhaps she would have some idea.

XXX

Dean led Castiel up the stairs and down the hall to Frank's room.

"I don't know how she's gonna react to you, you know? I mean, I stabbed you when we first met...and Sam acted like a fangirl...so it's really kind of up in the air how she's gonna take you." Dean was saying. "Maybe you could be a little biblical about it...say something like 'Be not afraid'...it might put her at ease. She goes to church, you know, so that might help a little."

Dean knew he was rambling. Again. He knocked on Frank's door. "Uh, Frank...there's someone here to see you. You decent?"

"Yeah." came the soft reply.

Dean pushed the door open to find Frank in bed as usual, only this afternoon she had a notebook open on her lap, her purple bible held aloft in one hand, a pink fluorescent Sharpie in the other, and a pen clenched between her teeth.

"So anyways...you take care of it Cas, we owe you one." Dean turned on his heel and went back downstairs, leaving Castiel alone standing in the doorway.

"Be not afraid." Cas offered as his salutation.

XXX

Dean had rejoined Bobby and Sam downstairs. "Well, it's in Cas's hands now. I just hope we did the right thing by calling him here."

"I don't know how he's going to fix this, Dean." Sam said morosely.

"Well, guess we'll just have to wait and see." Dean said firmly. "Have a little faith, Sammy."

XXX

It was nightfall when Castiel rejoined the three men in the livingroom.

"She requires sustenance," was the first thing he said, "She told me she was starving. After all that has happened to her, you have not been letting her eat?" Castiel looked disappointed in them.

"I bring her food all the time!" Dean all but squawked.

"I think she meant that she's just really hungry. Mostly she hasn't been eating what Dean brings to her." Bobby assured Cas.

"Don't say anything important until I get back." Dean instructed, as he went into the kitchen and collected the tray of food he'd prepared for Frank. "I mean it." He headed upstairs.

Dean pushed Frank's door open with his shoulder and found Frank standing at the window, starring out into the darkness in her housecoat. He set the tray on her bedside table. "Dinner is served."

"I just had a conversation with an angel." she turned around. Her expression was serene and a small bit of weight lifted from Dean's chest.

"Yes, you did. Not what you expected, I bet." Dean smirked.

"He's...absurdly obtuse." Frank said slowly, and let a small smile appear on her lips, "But I suspect he's also pretty kick-ass."

"You're right, there." Dean agreed.

Frank walked over to the tray of food and picked up the bowl of Spaghetti-Os. "I think I'll be better soon. I just need another few days to wallow in self pity."

Dean didn't really know what to say to that.

She turned and gave him another small smile, only this time there was a glint of amusement, "Then maybe we can all get back to eating food that doesn't come out of a can."

XXX

"She has faith like a child." Castiel was saying when Dean rejoined them.

"I _told_ you not to say anything. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?" Dean grouched.

"I was merely reassuring them that Frank is a very strong woman." Castiel said patiently.

"You just said she was a child."

"No, he said she has faith _like_ a child." Sam said.

"That's theology...you're debating theology." Dean frowned, "Skip to the important part:Is she going to be okay? This whole thing with Meg and Sam, it's not going to screw her up for good, is it?"

"I'm surprised at you, Dean. I thought by now you understood that people didn't just get 'fixed' from talking to an angel." Castiel admonished.

"So you're saying you messed her up even more...great." Dean gritted out sarcastically.

"To use you vernacular, yes, she is going to be 'okay'." Castiel's eyes twitched, almost as if he thought about rolling them. "Eventually."

Dean beamed, "Okay, great...now what about Sam? Is there any sort of angel counseling you can put him into, because this is getting-"

"Dean!"

"I will stay to watch over her tonight." Castiel continued as though nothing had been said.

"Yeah, that's probably not the greatest idea. It creeps me out when you do it to me, I don't think Frank will like it any better." Dean shook his head.

"She did not stab me upon meeting me." Cas pointed out.

Dean considered this for a second. "Fair enough."

XXX

They were getting...chummy. Castiel and Frank. "What are they doing up there? Bible study?" Dean asked impatiently.

"I think Castiel just likes her. She doesn't blaspheme around him like you idjits do." Bobby said, stomping in from the yard.

"She doesn't blaspheme around _anyone_." Sam pointed out.

Dean and Bobby agreed that was true.

Dean figured he should bring Frank something for lunch. He fixed a BLT and a glass of orange juice. They'd run out of freshly squeezed orange juice, so Dean had made a grocery run for a jug. He set everything on a tray and headed upstairs. Balancing the tray on one arm he knocked on the door. "Lunch is ready!"

He heard a tinkle of Frank's laughter and then, "Come in, Dean."

He pushed open the door to find Cas and Frank sharing what amounted to a picnic lunch consisting of takeout burgers and fries on Frank's bed.

"I brought you a sandwich." Dean said, looking a little put out.

"Castiel popped out for some burgers." Frank smiled at Cas.

"I see that."

"You can have some of my fries if you want." Frank looked at his tray of food apologetically, "It was really nice of you to bring me something to eat. I would have mentioned that Castiel had already taken care of lunch, only we just got so caught up in talking and it completely slipped my mind."

"Right, sure, no problem. I can give this to Bobby. Or, you know, eat it myself."

Frank gave him a small smile. "You know, you could join us...there's plenty of room on the bed. Castiel was telling me about his role as a newly minted Archangel. He's really interesting."

"I'm sure he is."

"And I like his sense of humour."

"What sense of humour?"

"The one that he has." Frank gave Dean a crooked smile.

"I think I'll leave you two alone. I have work to do. Bobby needs some help on the cars. I'm...busy. Maybe later." Dean turned and headed off with his still full tray.

"He's been taking such good care of me." Frank confided in Castiel, repeating what she'd told him half a dozen times already.

"He is a good man." Cas agreed.

XXX

Two days after Castiel arrived, Frank salted and burned the bedsheets in the yard. She stood in her bathrobe and slippers and watched the flames.

Then she joined the men...and Castiel, for dinner.

Bobby had fried up-something. Dean wasn't really sure what it was. He caught himself thinking about how he'd wish Frank had made a side of vegetables, asparagus, maybe. He scowled to himself.

"I'm going to the Good Shepherd tomorrow." Frank spoke up suddenly, "Is there anything you want me to pick up while I'm in town?"

"You're not going by yourself. Cas is going with you." Dean informed her. "And I think we need more milk."

Everyone stared at Dean.

"What?" he grumbled, pushing his food around with his fork.

XXX

Castiel did indeed accompany Frank to the Good Shepherd the next day. When they returned, they were chatting happily. _Is Cas smiling? What a freak,_ Dean thought.

Apparently Cas' presence had been quite a hit at the homeless drop-in. Dean wasn't sure if it was because he was generally angelic and would fit right in with the do-gooder crowd, or if it was because he'd been there with Frank, and any friend of Frank's must be awesome.

XXX

"God's not going to come when he's called, he's not a lapdog. He didn't bend to the will of mere mortals back in the day and he's certainly not going to start now." Frank was saying over dinner that night.

"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded

"Because He's _God_." Frank said with maddening patience.

Dean did not appreciate her tone _at all_. Cas is clearly a bad influence on her.

"No, stop that! Stop the knowing looks." Dean demanded of Frank and Castiel as they shared another look.

He hated being patronized like this, dammit!

"I don't get it, if God wants us to follow His rules then where does free will come in? I am sick of God being such a backseat driver!"

Frank pursed her lips, "Maybe if you let Him drive every once in a while, you wouldn't have that problem."

"Yeah well, I tried to let him drive during the Apocalypse...and look how that turned out." Dean said in frustration.

"I'm not sure what you're implying. You saved the day. Lucifer is in Hell. Sam is here. You are here. The world didn't implode. You had all the tools to finish the job, a la Winston Churchill. You didn't give up. You didn't give in. You prevailed. That's God's grace right there, bucko."

"No, this is exactly the same kind of blind faith that got Jimmy Novak stuck on vessel detail-no offense Cas." Dean said as Castiel looked back over at him.

"The greatest gift on earth is free will." Frank said. "You chose to save the world. By the way, I'd love to join your Screw Destiny campaign. Can I make posters?" she smiled.

"You drive me crazy."

"It's a gift."

XXX

Sam had been doing his best to avoid Frank. At meals he'd keep his eyes on his plate. He'd abstain from the the salt or pepper, if it meant having to ask Frank for it. Generally, not speaking at all.

Of course, Frank would have none of this and cornered him after dinner one night in the yard.

"Sam, hey, we should talk." she said softly, backing him over to a pile of wrecked cars. He knew how ridiculous this looked. A Great Dane being corralled by a kitten.

Sam`s breath caught in his throat as he heard the three words from Frank`s lips, "I forgive you."

He sagged against the cars.

"Sam? Are you ok?" Frank reached for him. "It's ok, it'll be ok. I'm ok...you're ok...right? Everything's totally fine." She pulled him to her, winding her arms tightly around his waist, squeezing him into a hug, rubbing his back comfortingly.

Slowly, he put his arms around her and returned her hug. She squeezed him tighter and felt him shudder. And suddenly Sam Winchester came apart in her arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he snuffled.

"Hey, hey...shh, it's ok." she chanted soothing him. "We'll get through this."

XXX

Dean leaned against the frame of the front door, looking out into the yard, watching Frank comfort Sam as he sobbed into her shoulder. A mixture of emotions swirled in the pit of Dean's stomach. How could Sammy be so stupid? With all the experience they had with the denizens of Hell, why hadn't he known that Meg had possessed Frank. Maybe he knew and didn't care. Sam wouldn't take advantage of Frank that way, would he?

Dean frowned for thinking that way about Sam. Of course his brother wouldn't do that. He might be stupid but he wasn't willfully cruel. Mostly. Usually. At least, that better not be the case, or Dean was going to kick his ass so hard...

Speaking of which, why wasn't Frank kicking his brother's ass? Logistics aside, Frank really should be ripping into Sam, not comforting the big idiot. What was wrong with her? Why wasn't she more angry? If he'd been in Frank's shoes he'd definitely be punching things.

He felt Bobby's eyes on his back and he turned around, "What?" he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

"You don't have to break up with your brother over this." Bobby insisted, "Frank's forgiven him."

That was another thing, Bobby was definitely more calm about this than Dean was entirely comfortable with. If Dean wanted to rip his brother's head from this body, Bobby should certainly be ready to stick it on a spike in his yard. Clearly Cas was a bad influence on people. All this forgiveness shit. This was all his doing. Well, Cas could expect Dean to punch him in the face if he thought he was going to mind-whammy Dean. Sneaky angel bastard.

God, he needed a drink.

XXX

 _Jesus wept_ , Frank thought from her room later that evening, as she kept watch from the window. Dean's shoulders were hunched as he leaned against the Impala, a bottle of beer dangling between his fingers.

She saw his shoulders tense, as if he could feel her gaze. She took a step back into the shadows of her dark room.

If he had turned around a half of a second earlier, he would have seen Frank's shadowy silhouette at the second floor window. As it was, Castiel appeared in front of him. Dean jumped, startled. "You'd think I'd be used to you popping out of nowhere."

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't." Dean scowled, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Of course."

"What are you doing here?"

"Comforting you."

"What?"

"You are upset about what has happened with Sam, Frank, and the demon."

"You're damn right I am. Why shouldn't I be?"

"I believe that is a rhetorical question."

"Why are you here, Cas?" Dean asked tiredly.

"You should not be angry with Sam."

"He should have known Frank was possessed." Dean ground out.

"Would you have?"

"Yes!" Dean snorted. He had the vague feeling that Cas was, ironically, playing devil's advocate.

"Do you really believe that?"

"What? You think I'm jealous or something?" Dean demanded.

"It is likely because of Sam and Meg's act of fornication...several acts of..."

"Could you not say shit like that?" Dean cut Cas off.

Castiel stared at Dean, "You should forgive him."

Dean glared and said nothing. They stood in silence for a few minutes.

"Dean?" Frank was standing in the open doorway, light pooling around her from the house.

"Frank, it's late, you should be in bed, asleep." Dean said.

"I couldn't sleep." She shrugged, "Are you ok?"

Oh, that was right, he had fallen down the rabbit hole. Where left was right, up was down, people forgave their rapists and had more concern for Dean than she did for herself.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"He is not fine." Cas supplied helpfully.

"Thanks Cas." Dean glared at the angel.

"He is having trouble understanding why you have forgiven Sam." Cas continued, unfazed by Dean's surliness.

Frank came out onto the porch, and down the steps into the yard.

"I've forgiven Sam because he didn't do anything wrong. None of this was his fault." Frank said, joining Cas and Dean in the moonlit yard.

" _How_ is what happened, not his fault?" Dean demanded.

"It's the demon's fault." Frank said slowly, as though explaining something to a child.

Dean couldn't really dispute that point. "How are you so okay with all of this?" he asked, instead.

"This is life. Bad things happen to good people. Even with all of the pain and misery and arbitrary suffering. There's also random acts of kindness, glimmers of unadulterated joy, quiet moments of peace..."

Her words remind Dean of the conversation he once had with Anna.

_There's loyalty... Forgiveness... Love._

_Pain._

_Chocolate cake._

_Guilt._

_Sex._

_Every emotion...even the bad ones._

"If we didn't have all of the horrible things how could we truly appreciate the wonderful things?" Frank's face was openly earnest. "It's like being thirsty on a hot day and finally getting a drink of water. It tastes so much better, it's more quenching and relieving. The miserable situations of the world give us an opportunity to take pleasure in the refreshing and good times."

Dean remembers his first drink of water after 40 years in Hell and decides she does actually have a fair point with that little metaphor. Simile? Whatever.

Castiel is standing there looking at Frank with an impassable look on his face. Except Dean gets the impression that it's actually covering up affection or approval or something.

"You really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Faith."

"That's helpful." Dean rolled his eyes.

"It is to me."

XXX

Bobby was on the phone on Sunday afternoon with Rufus, who'd called to ask him about some obscure bit of witchcraft that pertained to a case he was currently on. Bobby had recruited Frank's help and she currently was nose deep in an ancient text.

Dean sat across the room cleaning his .45 caliber. While he was mostly focused on the task at hand, his eyes often strayed to Frank.

There's two lines that crease between Frank's eyebrows when she's trying to figure something out, or when she's angry.

Dean wants to smooth them out with his finger. He wondered when he became such a girl. He shook himself out of his silly daydreams and studiously went back to cleaning his gun.

"He wants to talk to you." Bobby said gruffly, and handed the phone to his daughter.

"Mr. Turner?" Frank smiled into the phone.

Bobby rolled his eyes.

'Mr. Turner?' Dean mouthed to Bobby, amused.

"I'm actually looking at the page right now. Shall I read it to you? Do you have a pen?" Frank asked, smoothing the pages of the worn book.

"Since when does 'Mr. Turner' want to talk to her instead of you?" Dean grinned at Bobby.

"Apparently I'm not as 'charming' as she is." Bobby shrugged.

"Oh, Mr. Turner, you're a sweetheart! Thank you!" Frank chuckled after she'd read the incantation. "These spells are always tricky to pronounce, I think I'm getting better though. Bobby's taught me so much."

"Rufus is a sweetheart?" Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Do you think maybe you should pay him a visit and make sure he's not possessed?"

"He's not possessed." Bobby assured him, "She can just charm the spots off a giraffe, is all."

XXX

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for going off the deep end like that. And I'm really sorry I didn't take precautions when I went out. I just left myself wide open to possession. I'm not making excuses, I knew it could happen, I just never thought it would happen to me. I'm so sorry." Frank had been sitting quietly in the livingroom just before dinner. Now she was apologizing for getting possessed.

Dean looked at Frank, wondering if the apologies were a Canadian thing, a girl thing, or a Frank thing.

"If I had thought to do something to prevent possession I could have saved us all a whole lot of heartache." Frank's voice was steady, but her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, "I just want to ask you guys to forgive me, if you can."

"Seriously? If anyone should apologize, it should be me!" Sam looked at Frank in horror, "...I never should have...I shouldn't have..."

Frank's eyes hardened, furious that Sam was blaming himself, "I understand that you're in the middle of a personal crisis, but I really think you've had enough time to get over yourself and get back into the game. We've got a world to save, lest we forget. I really don't have time for you to experience a mental breakdown, right now." Frank informed Sam heatedly.

Sam's jaw sagged. Bobby and Dean looked at each other with eyebrows meeting their hairlines.

"I'm not trying to drag this out into some big soap opera drama. I'm asking for forgiveness for my foolishness...you grant it, we move on. Hey, we don't even have to talk about this again...or whatever...whatever helps us move beyond this. I don't want to have this awkwardness between us Sam." Frank entreated, "I'm not saying we ignore it...I'm not ignoring it. I'm facing it...but you have got to stop blaming yourself. You didn't know I was possessed. It's not your fault what happened."

"Not my fault?" Sam's voice rose an octave, "I raped you! _God,_ Frank!"

 _Ok, now we've officially crossed over into the area of discussion when sinking into the floor or getting struck by lightening would be really awesome,_ Dean thought.

Frank flinched but remained unmoved. " _Meg_ raped me. The demon. The _demon_ did it Sam. And if I recall correctly, this is _exactly_ what she wanted. She _wanted_ you in knots over this. I won't let her have that!"

Dean didn't know who was more hysterical, Sam or Frank.

"She used you. She used me. It sucks royally, but guess what? If you let it eat at you, she wins. Yeah, she's back in Hell, but she wins." Frank growled, "Are you going to do that to me?"

God, this girl knew how to push Sam's passive-aggressive sensitive buttons. Dean looked at Bobby again, who looked a little swollen with pride. _Guess he realizes what she's doing to Sam too. Guilting him into forgiving himself. Genius._ If it wasn't totally inappropriate, Dean figured he'd kiss Frank for her brilliance right here and now.

"No, of course not! I'm sorry!" Sam exclaimed, startled.

"Say you're sorry one more time and I will slap you right across the face." Frank declared, slightly mollified.

"Okay, okay." Sam held his hands up in surrender.

"Good." Frank settled back into her chair. "Now, I'm ravenous. Who wants steak?"

 _Confrontation, followed by food._ Dean narrowed his eyes happily at Frank. _What a woman._

XXX

"I think I'm dying."

Frank looked up from the barbecue in concern, ready for action. Dean was lying on the floor of the porch, hand on his forehead as though he was in extreme pain.

"What's wrong? Have you eaten anything today? Do you need some water?" Frank moved over to kneel beside him, pressing her fingers to the pulse point on his neck.

Sam and Bobby looked up from their prospective spots on the porch. Sam had the Tibetan Book of the Dead perched on his knees and Bobby was leafing through an AutoTrader magazine.

"It's been a month." Dean says weakly, as though that should explain it. Sadly, to Sam and Bobby(after a moment), it did.

"Oh, wow." Sam said, almost impressed. "I'm surprised that parts haven't started falling off."

"What are you talking about?" Frank demanded, placing a soothing hand on Dean's bicep.

"If Dean doesn't find a girl at least once every two days, he starts going a little crazy." Sam explained.

"That's an awful lot of casual sex for someone who's not in a steady relationship...with anyone other than his brother or his guardian angel." Frank casually removed her hand.

"Are you calling me a slut?" Dean said, a little defensively. "There's nothing wrong with casual sex!"

"There are a few things that are wrong with casual sex." Frank disagreed, "When I have casual sex, it's not going to be some random hookup from a bar. I'm going to _casually_ fold myself into my full-time-all-the-time-one-and-only lover's arms and _casually_ have sex with him." she cocked her head, and bit back a smile, "And then, you know, _casually_ enjoy a slice of pie afterwards."

"That's definitely a better view of casual sex." Sam agreed, while Dean glared.

"It's like this burger here.." Frank gestured to the barbecue, "You could eat the meat by itself, or maybe with the cheese melted over the top...and you'd have a tantalizing snack."

Food metaphors. Frank was speaking Dean's language.

"But if you completely assemble the hamburger...put it on a bun, put your favourite things on it, little bit of bacon, maybe...and a side of fries...well, then you've got a complete meal. It tastes good. It has all the right things in it to make it _your_ burger, because it's made with all your favourite ingredients. It's complete. That's what waiting for that special person is like. I could snack along the way, and have a general idea of all the parts of a burger and fries...or relationship...but why would I, when I could have the whole Happy Meal, so to speak?"

"That's an awful lot of cholesterol." Dean attempted to steer the story out of the serious territory that this conversation was heading into.

Frank chuckled, "Whoever God has in mind for me is probably going to get very fat. Sucks to be them."

"Hardly." Dean snorted.

Frank flipped the burgers, "But do I think it would be better if I waited until I got married? Would it really make a difference? What if I never get married?"

"Don't you want to wait? Isn't it a rule?" Dean was confused, _what happened to having the Happy Meal?_

"It's never really never been an issue before. I mean, I never committed to saving my virginity until marriage...and it's not like I have that anymore anyways." Frank said, her tone indefinable, "Besides, do you honestly believe God cares who's getting some before marriage and who's waiting?"

"Not really." Dean said slowly, "But that doesn't mean your Happy Meal theory doesn't have, you know, merit."

"It is a pretty awesome theory, isn't it?" Frank smirked, pleased with herself. "I just thought it up, just now."


	5. Life Is A Highway ~ Tom Cochrane

 

It was the third Wednesday in September and Frank was off to the Good Shepherd again. Castiel, of course, was commissioned to accompany her, on Dean's orders.

Sam was a little worried about how Dean had gotten used to bossing around an angel of the Lord...although Cas had pointed out that he was part of Team Free Will and didn't have to listen to anything Dean said if he didn't want to. Dean pouted at this until Cas added that most of the things he was being instructed to do were good ideas and he didn't mind doing favours for Dean. Meanwhile, Frank didn't seem to mind having an angelic body guard, which Sam felt was probably a good thing.

After their volunteer session, Cas accompanied Frank to the local health clinic in town.

"I made the appointment when I realized I was going to be in town for my final test date." Frank said, even though Castiel hadn't asked.

"Please promise you won't mention this to anyone until I can tell Sam myself." she petitioned the angel.

"Do you want me to lie?" Castiel looked a little uncertain. He hadn't really gotten the hang of lying.

"No!" Frank looked appalled. There was no way she was going to ask an angel of the Lord to lie for her. Dean might find it appropriate to try his level best to corrupt Castiel, but she was not going to be party to his campaign to humanize the angel.

Frank was at the stage of her faith where she had grown passed the desperate need to constantly question 'why?'. Sure, she still did it occasionally, forgetting that the answer tended to come back the ever annoying 'because I know better than you do, child.'

The adage that God worked in mysterious ways was more than just a quippy phrase to her. It was true. She had learned over time to look for the bigger picture through the petty details, while still seeing the important details in the big picture.

Half of the time there didn't seem to be any sort of balance, no sense of symmetry from her vantage point of life. It was during those times that Frank reminded herself that God knew what He was doing, even if she didn't.

Still, that didn't mean getting tested for HIV particularly thrilled Frank to pieces--big picture or not. Nor did the anxiety that came along with the legal and moral obligation to tell all possible exposed partners.

"Can you wait in the reception area for me?" Frank had previously scheduled her appointment, so she wouldn't have to wait in line. The doctor was ready to see her 7 minutes after she arrived at the office.

Castiel sat in the waiting room, keeping vigil. He had to remind himself to not 'do that creepy staring thing' that he was wont to do. Dean said it unnerved humans. The stress level seemed high enough in the room as it was without him causing any undue concern.

As Frank had explained to Castiel earlier, she was here for a final blood test to determine if she was still free from the human immunodeficiency virus, or what humans more commonly referred to as HIV. She had explained to him that she had been exposed while working down in Haiti and had thus far tested negative.

Castiel knew that she still worried that this time she might test positive. She was also nervous because she knew she had to tell Sam about the possibility of infection, as they had engaged in one of the risk factors for transmitting the virus.

When they returned to Bobby's house a little later than usual, Sam was just about to ask what had held them up when his cellphone rang.

"Sham? Uh, Sam?" a voice slurred through the phone.

"Chuck?" Sam frowned.

Dean looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Becky...really mad...sorry 'bout that, I could have warned ya 'bout the...but then she read it, an'..."

"Chuck, what happened, are you ok?" Sam was not really worried, but he was confused.

"Meg..." Chuck moaned, "And you..."

"Uh. You saw that?" Sam shifted uncomfortably.

Dean was looking even more curious, but now with a hint of concern.

"Not your fault, Sam...Sam, Sam, Sam the man..."

"Do you need our help?"

A loud sob echoed through the phone. Sam pulled it away from his ear, cringing.

"You know what, man? We're on our way..."

But Chuck had already hung up.

"I think I just got drunk dialed by Chuck." Sam said with a pinched face as he put down his cellphone.

"Who's Chuck?"

"No one." Dean said quickly.

"Chuck Shurley...he's just a prophet we know." Sam muttered under his breath.

"A prophet, like...Jonah? Samuel? Jeremiah?" Frank was practically short of breath with excitement.

"Probably most like Jonah...he was a bit reluctant to believe he was a prophet at first."

Frank appeared to be struggling to arrange her manner into something that looked casual, "Can I meet him? Will you introduce me?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean shook his head almost imperceptibly, Sam pressed his lips together in consideration.

"Please? I want to come with you."

"Come with us?" Dean spluttered.

"To meet Anne Shirley." She nodded.

"It's Chuck Shurley, actually." Sam corrected.

"You want to come with us to meet Chuck?" Dean asked.

"Does he require pie-charts to understand things?" Frank frowned at Dean

"Pie?" Dean was getting distracted again.

"There's some left over in the fridge." Frank said, not breaking her rhythm. "I want to meet the prophet."

"No good will come of this!" Dean shouted with his head now inside the fridge.

"Thankfully, you aren't a prophet, so forgive me if I don't take your fatalistic predictions seriously!" Frank hollered back at him.

XXX

Frank spoke with Bobby about accompanying the Winchesters to meet 'Chuck the Prophet'. She was decidedly single-minded when she latched onto an idea, and her discussion with Bobby was more about informing him of her intentions to end her visit with him, rather than actually asking permission to head out on a roadtrip with 2 men she really hardly knew.

Thankfully, Bobby was pretty open-minded about Frank's decision. He realized that she wasn't going to be staying forever, and certainly this was the sort of opportunity that most average folks who had any sort of spiritual belief system didn't get every day.

Bobby did have a word with the boys about keeping his new found daughter out of any form of mortal danger. Dean certainly remembered the look on Bobby's face when he told them in no uncertain terms that if one hair on Frank's head was harmed, they'd best commit hara kiri before he laid hands on them. Dean knew he wasn't joking.

It didn't seem likely there would be many opportunities for harm to befall Frank. After all, the plan was to visit Chuck, meet and greet, and then drive Frank to the Canadian border.

XXX

Dinner was over and Sam and Dean were hanging out in the livingroom with a beer. Bobby was in the kitchen getting another for himself.

"From what I understand, Becky read what Chuck had written about Meg." Sam frowned, "He was pretty drunk, so I'm not 100%."

"Are you saying we might have to do some couples counseling when we get there?" Dean grimaced.

"I dunno, man. Like I said, he was pretty drunk."

Frank was upstairs packing her bags. They'd agreed to leave the next morning for Chuck's place, and Frank had already dropped her rental car off at the Hertz.

Dean thought he heard the rustle of wings, indicating Cas' arrival, and after hearing the murmur of voices upstairs he realized that Cas had popped into Frank's room instead of coming to see them first. He told himself he wasn't bothered by it.

"You know, I haven't told Frank that Chuck's work is available for mass consumption." Bobby said, coming back into the livingroom. "She only knows whatever you've told her. She doesn't know about...well, really anything."

"Aside from us having a fairly central role in the averting of the Apocalypse." Sam reminded him.

"Aside from that." Bobby shrugged, "I wanted to paint you boys in a positive light for her first impression. What can I say?"

"I don't think I want her reading some of those books." Dean grimaced, thinking of a few scenes in particular.

"She already knows that you're a man-whore." Sam grinned, "Nothing's going to change that."

Dean gave a disgruntled grunt. "I don't want her getting any ideas about angels."

Sam's brow furrowed, "How do you mean? She gets along fine with Cas, just because Uriel and Zachariah were jerks, doesn't mean she'll stop liking Cas."

"I'm not worried about her _not_ liking him." Dean took a swig of his beer.

Bobby looked at him in amusement.

"I don't follow." Sam frowned.

"Anna?" Dean asked significantly. "And how she wasn't all that angelic."

"Oh."

Bobby continued to smirk silently.

Sam bit his lip and started to grin, "Don't worry Dean, Cas will always love you best."

Dean scowled, "Shut up!"

"I'm all ready!" Frank sang out as she bounded down the stairs. Castiel followed at a more sedate pace.

"Castiel was telling me all about Chuck. I'm just so excited to meet him!" Frank said breathlessly. "I'm so glad you're letting me come with you!"

"Not a problem." Dean squinted out a small smile.

"And you didn't tell me he'd already published some of what he'd written!" Frank continued, too excited to really be put out. "I can't wait to read it!"

Dean's scowl darkened, "Yeah, can't wait."

"You want a beer?" Sam asked Frank, rising to get another for himself.

"I'll have one." Bobby raised a hand.

"Dean?"

"I'm still workin' on this one."

"Cas?"

"No, thank you."

"You can pour me a glass of wine if you'd like." Frank nodded, and then took a breath, "And, uh, Sam? Can I talk to you for a minute-in private, please?"

Sam nodded and headed into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of the red wine they'd had with dinner, and beer for himself and Bobby. Frank led him out onto the porch.

"It's a nice night." Sam gestured to the clear sky. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and there was a light breeze.

"Nice for sleeping." Frank agreed, taking a sip of her wine.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes." Frank shifted to lean against the porch railing and looked at Sam, "So, uh, I've never done this before because you're the first person I've, um...been intimate with...but there's something I need to tell you."

Sam held his breath, "Cas said you weren't pregnant."

Frank huffed a nervous laugh, "I'm not. How did he-nevermind." she shook her head, "No, it's something else." She took a deep breath, "When I was in Haiti, I was working on this kid. He was injured pretty badly; deep lacerations in his stomach and chest. I don't know how he got hurt, they just told me that the rescue workers had pulled him from under some wreckage. I had to go in and clamp an artery-there was so much blood and he was aspirating it everywhere, I could barely hold onto the clamp. There was something in the wound-shrapnel of some kind. It cut through my glove, cut my hand. I kept working, he was going to die..." Frank looked troubled. "We didn't know until later that he was HIV positive."

Frank took another sip of her wine and wrapped her trembling fingers around her glass. When she spoke again, she kept her eyes lowered, "I've been getting tested. The incubation period is pretty long, so they suggest going for tests at the 3 and 6 month mark. I've been testing negative so far." Frank looked up, "But you need to know even if there's the smallest chance...I...you need to know."

Sam nodded.

"That's why Castiel and I took a little longer to get back today. I had an appointment at the local clinic." Frank tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So. Now you know. Don't you wish it was demon spawn that we had to worry about?" she gave a crooked, self-deprecating smile.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, because _that_ would have made life so much better." He drank some of his beer. "You holding up ok with all of this?"

Frank's eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled in consideration, "Surprisingly, yes."

"Most people would be curled up in some dark corner in the fetal position right now if they were in your place." Sam pointed out.

"I suppose. But I'm not really the roll-over-and-die type of girl, eh?"

Sam raised his beer bottle in agreement, "I guess not."

Frank touched the small charm at her throat that Dean had given her to ward off possession. "Well, we had better go back inside."

"Thank you for telling me, Frank."

She gave a half-smile. "You're welcome, I guess."

When they returned to the livingroom, Dean looked up at Sam expectantly. Sam gave a small shake of his head and sat down. Frank joined Bobby on the couch.

They stayed like that for a while, talking about nothing, until Cas left around midnight.

It was comfortable.

XXX

The next morning, the Winchesters and Frank hit the road. When Cas had left the night before, he had blessed their journey, and Bobby was proud of himself that he didn't get misty eyed when his daughter hugged him before sliding into the backseat of the Impala, an excited grin on her face.

Frank promised to write and call, left him a bottle of icewine, and extended an open ended invitation to come to Montreal once she got back home to Canada. "I really want you to meet my grandparents."

Bobby stood on the porch and watched the Impala until it was out of sight. Then he went back inside and poured himself a drink.

XXX

Before they left town, Sam and Frank went into the Starbucks, which Dean stared at skeptically in the parking lot from the driver's seat of the Impala. They returned with beverages. A green tea latte for Sam, a cappuccino for Frank, and as close to a regular cup of coffee for Dean as they could get.

"We are not stopping at a Starbucks again!" Frank declared with a laugh as she handed Dean his coffee, "You should not have to mortgage your house to buy a cup of coffee! And there shouldn't be 18 dozen different options. For coffee!"

They stopped midday at a gas station for fuel and bottled water.

Frank gave Dean a stern look as she saw him slip something into his coat pocket, "You are going to let me pay for that, aren't you?"

"No...that's the point of shoplifting."

She huffed an exasperated sigh and held out a hand, "Give that to me. Go wait in the car."

"I'm going to drive off without you, one of these days." he threatened half-heartedly, retrieving the candy from his pocket.

Sam watched him leave, an amused expression on his face.

XXX

When they finally stopped for the night at the motel, Frank declined the Winchester's invitation to join them at the local bar. Instead she said she had some errands to run and she would see them back at the motel later.

Dean waved her off distractedly and the brothers headed out.

"Wonder what she's up to." Sam mused as he pushed to door open to the bar.

"Hmm,"Dean said, his eyes scanning the room. Sam recognized the look in his eyes and wondered if they'd see Dean again before morning. Especially when, seconds later, Dean's eyes locked on a leggy blonde in the corner of the room. Sam rolled his eyes. Apparently a month was a really long time for Dean.

Sam stayed for a few drinks before giving Dean a heads up that he'd be back at the motel.

"Our room?" Dean asked, glancing at the blonde.

"Uh, I can hang out at Frank's if-"

"That'd be great Sammy." Dean waved him off.

"Right, ok, see ya." Sam headed out of the bar and down the road. The bar was only a few blocks away from the motel and Sam enjoyed the hazy evening air as he walked the short distance.

When he arrived at Frank's door he knocked, "Hey, it's Sam."

"Come in, door's unlocked!" he heard Frank call.

"Why's your door unlocked?"

"Uh, because I didn't lock it." Frank said, coming out of the bathroom. "Where's Dean?"

"Still at the bar."

"Right, fulfilling his needs." Frank gave a small smile.

"Right." Sam agreed.

XXX

Dean knew that virgins existed, at least in theory, anyway. Nancy Fitzgerald, the secretary in the Colorado police station, had been a virgin. The concept still blew Dean's mind a little. Hell, even ugly people had sex...and yet some people apparently had chosen not to.

Dean was still very confused by the idea of 'saving' oneself until marriage, or commitment, or whatever.

Practice made perfect, didn't it? Why would you want to have bad sex the night of your wedding?

Dean considered that not everyone's first time was bad. But he was pretty sure that statistics would show that most people weren't great right out of the gate.

Dean frowned, Frank was different. In his mind's eye, Dean could remember Sammy looking embarrassed, but satisfied with himself when they came downstairs after traumatizing his brother and Bobby with the incredibly noisy antics he'd gotten himself into with Frank. Meg. Whatever.

And Dean had seen Frank dance. He had a theory that dancers were good in bed. It was all about rhythm and flexibility, after all.

"You want another drink, or do you want to get out of here?" the voice of his blonde companion shook Dean out of his internal monologue.

"Let's get out of here."

XXX

They didn't talk about it. Well, Sam and Dean talked about it when they were together, but they never said anything to Frank. They both tried to talk themselves into letting her pay for things.

"She is loaded, after all," Dean would say every time he and Sam discussed it.

But inevitably they would not let her pay for much more than breakfast. Sometimes dinner. They took care of the motel rentals by hustling at the bars in the evenings.

Frank would half-heartedly argue in favour of letting her pay for a few nights accommodations, but the Winchester brothers always maintained that they could take care of it. She would raise her hands in surrender and shrug, adding that whenever they wanted her to pay, she was more than happy to chip in her share.

"It's not like we're staying at the Hilton." Dean would argue.

And it was true. Sometimes they motels they stayed at left something to be desired...namely everything. But they always had enough for a double occupancy, and a single next door for Frank. Sometimes they'd even spring for a kitchen so that Frank could whip up some dinner in the evenings.

"Really, we should have brought help along with us a long time ago." Dean said, only half joking. Having a hot meal ready for you when you came back to your motel room was a special kind of heaven for Dean.

XXX

They reached Chuck's by the next afternoon. It was a Friday and the streets were not very busy with traffic.

"This is where the prophet lives?" Frank stepped from the back seat of the Impala, looking at the house before them in awe, and a little reverence. She grabbed her purse and the small gift bag that she had put together during the ride.

"Ok, just to warn you, whatever you expect from Chuck, don't. He's not going to have a halo. He's not going to have a white robe...hell, I can't even promise you he'll be fully dressed...so just, you know, remember he's a regular guy, who happens to be a conduit to, you know...divine prophesy." Dean insisted.

"Right, of course, regular guy..." Frank whispered.

Sam pressed the doorbell with extreme reservation.

They heard shuffling behind the door before it swung open. Chuck Shurley leaned against the frame for support. He looked hungover.

"Sam, Dean? What are you doing here?"

"You called us." Sam said, "You were drunk. Becky and you..."

"Oh, yeah." Chuck's face crumpled. "She left."

"Uh, I'm sorry, man." Dean said uncomfortably

Frank tapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Oh, right! Chuck, this is Frank!"

"Frank? Frank Houdin?" Chuck frowned, "From...? Wait, you brought her with you?"

"Didn't you see this coming?" Dean wanted to know.

"I don't see everything." Chuck informed him.

"Hello, Mr. Shurley, it is so nice to meet you. Castiel told me a little about you and I have to say, it's an honour." Frank extended a hand.

Chuck, looking slightly dumbfounded, took her hand and just held it. Frank gave it a quick shake.

"Uh..."

"Now, I understand that you had a vision of Meg...and me...and Sam. Shall we go inside?" Frank led Chuck back into his house, the Winchester's following after them. Dean shut the door behind him.

"Uh, well, I did, yes..."

"And I have already forgiven you in my head for not calling us and warning us about that, even though it could have saved us a whole lot of trouble. I'm sure there's some sort of policy which prevents you from interfering." Frank said.

"You forgive me?"

"Yes, because I realize you're numb to all the earth-shattering revelations by now, and because I have the compassion and patience of a saint." Frank gave him a slightly tight smile, "Otherwise I would have slapped you across the face when I met you at the door, instead of waiting until we were inside and out of the view of your neighbours." Frank's open palm met Chuck's face quite abruptly with a loud crack.

Dean jumped forward, pulling her away from Chuck. "Ok, no hitting the prophet, otherwise you'll get smited by an archangel!"

"It's fine, I'm good, I got it out of my system." Frank said, shaking him off. "Although, you know, I think I need a drink or something...I've never hit anyone before." She sat down. "You think Meg rubbed off on me? I mean, one stint as the meatsuit of a demon and suddenly I'm a guest on Jerry Springer!"

"I think that was all you." Sam assured her.

XXX

Once Frank calmed down from her adrenaline rush, she fell back into the adoring follower of the newest New Testament. She passed Chuck the gift bag, which turned out to contain a small bottle of maple syrup, and a bottle of icewine.

"My grandmother always told me that life could be likened to an intricate embroidery. From the back, it's a meaningless mess of tangled threads with no apparent design. But on the other side there's a perfect pattern of the tapestry with not a stitch out of place. So it is with life and death. Here we see just part of the pattern- the chaotic tangle. Only when we pass to the other side will it be revealed how all things work together in a flawless design." Frank said, "But you get to see part of the design beforehand. Chuck, that must be so wonderful."

"Is your grandmother a fortune cookie?" Dean muttered, unhappy with this turn of events. He liked Frank better when she was bitch-slapping the prophet.

"So tell me," Frank leaned in, "Why did you call the Winchesters?"

"Well, Becky broke up with me, I thought if they talked to her, maybe she'd come around." Chuck admitted.

"I knew we'd end up doing couples' counseling." Dean groused.

"Is she still mad at you?" Sam asked.

"She threw a Sam figurine at my head." Chuck said miserably

"So...yes." Sam answered.

"You are making money off of action figures of us? Why are we not getting a cut?" Dean wanted to know.

"Why would they be able to convince her?"

"Becky is probably Sam's biggest fan." Chuck explained to Frank, who looked like she wanted to start taking notes. "She likes Dean well enough, but mostly she likes him on paper."

"Yeah, I don't think she cares much for the real deal. She said I wasn't what she'd pictured." Dean said.

"Well, I think a lot of fans picture you guys the way you're depicted on the covers of the books." Chuck reasoned. "The artists took some creative liberties."

"Good thing too, because Sam did not look the hero-type back when he had Justin Bieber hair."

Sam made a face at Dean.

"The angel, Castiel, said that you had published..."

"Yes," Chuck jumped up and went over to a bookcase, he selected a paperback from the shelf and returned, handing Frank the first book in the Supernatural series.

"This can only end in tears." Dean promised.

Sam secretly agreed.

XXX

Chuck offered them a drink, which Frank declined as she set about packing the full series of paperbacks into a cardboard box.

Chuck and Sam had just sat down in the livingroom to figure out how to get Becky to forgive Chuck when Becky burst through the front door.

"Sam!"

Dean settled back into the couch to watch what he was sure was going to be an entertaining scene.

"I didn't know you were going to be dropping by!" Becky exclaimed.

"Chuck called me and told me what had happened." Sam said. Right away he could tell that was not the right thing to say.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Becky frowned. "How nice of him to be so communicative with you. He never tells me anything. I had to find out about Meg's return by snooping through the drafts he keeps in the locked drawer of his desk."

Frank shot Dean a look that clearly asked _Why do you insist on associating with crazy people?_

"Yeah, I can see how that would be difficult for you." Sam said, not sure whether to be amused, offended, or sarcastic.

"Why didn't you want me to read about Sam and Meg and Frank?" Becky demanded of Chuck, turning to him for the first time since bursting uninvited into his house.

"I was lying to you to protect you!" Chuck exclaimed.

"For future reference, women hate it when men say that to them." Frank supplied.

Dean shifted in his seat on the couch.

Becky's scowl softened slightly. Apparently, she was not one of those women, "You were trying to protect me?"

Sam furrowed his brow in her direction.

"Oh Chuck!" Becky flung herself at the startled writer and began kissing him madly.

Frank averted her eyes politely. Sam and Dean looked on in fascinated horror.

XXX

By the time they were ready to leave, Frank was less wary of Becky, and had even exchanged email addresses with her.

Dean loaded the box of books into the trunk of the car. Frank had tucked the first book into her purse to read in the car. It was a little distracting to hear the little gasps of fear from the backseat as Frank got through the first book during the drive.

"Oh Sam!" Frank's voice was thick with emotion, "I'm so sorry about Jessica!"

Sam's face pinched.

She mowed through the first four books by the end of the day. "They're paperback sized." she said to Sam's amazed expression, "And I can go over them and take notes later. I just want to get through them first. They're easy reads. Chuck may not be the most eloquent prophet, but his writing is pretty accessible."

Dean shook his head in amusement.

"I didn't know you were a nervous flyer, Dean." Frank said, turning to him sympathetically, "Although, after that flight, I can understand why you would be."

Dean scowled. Frank finding out about his problem with flying was soon going to be the least of his worries.

XXX

They arrived at the motel shortly after leaving Chuck's. It was not the best motel that the Winchesters had ever stayed in. It was true, they probably were going to have to watch out for cockroaches...maybe mice...but that was the life.

A life that Frank was definitely not accustomed to. Frank took one look at the motel room and her face dropped. Sam and Dean left to hustle some pool at the local bar and Frank left with her debit card.

When the boys returned at around 1 a.m., Dean would have thought they'd walked into the wrong motel room if it hadn't been for the fact that Frank was standing in the middle of the room, peeling off yellow rubber gloves.

"Ok, kinda feeling like the Little Princess, here."

Sam shot him a quizzical look.

"By Francis Higgins Burnett. I read." Dean said defensively.

"What are you talking about?" Sam frowned.

Dean gestured to the room.

Frank had done what amounted to a mini room remodel while the boys were out. She had gone and purchased new bedding sets and pillows,. and put a bath mat down in the bathroom. The room smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and air freshener.

"I splurged on 800-thread count." she said sheepishly.

"Uh...why?"

"Let's just say that the visible stains on the bedsheets were the least of our worries." Frank said darkly. "I almost used some of your holy water to clean the bathroom."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, "You _cleaned_ the bathroom? Isn't that what the maid service is for?"

"I highly doubt they have a maid service here. "Frank's lip curled,"And if they do have one, they should fire them for incompetency."

Sam pursed his lips as if to say, _'Harsh'_.

"Ok, well, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to bed. See you guys in the morning." Frank dropped her yellow gloves into the blue plastic pail full of cleaning supplies and headed to her room next door.

"She's a weird one." Dean decided.

"Well, at least we don't have sheets with visible stains now." Sam pointed out with a shudder.

"I bet she whistles while she works." Dean said contemplatively, shucking off his coat.

"Be nice."

They undressed for bed and Dean was the first to slide under his covers. "Oh my God!"

"What?" Sam asked in alarm, his t-shirt half way over his head.

"These sheets are heaven."

Sam furrowed his brow, "And you say _I'm_ the gay one?"

"Shut up, get into your bed, you'll see what I'm talking about." Dean moaned in a way that Sam found incredibly inappropriate. "We're definitely keeping her."

Sam rolled his eyes and got into his own bed.

Ok, so maybe Dean had a point. The sheets _were_ heaven. "Wow."

"I know!"

Good night, Dean."

"Night, Sam."

XXX

After one incredibly good night's sleep, the Winchesters and their fairy godmother reconvened for breakfast at the diner down the street.

Dean was half a breath away from offering sexual favours in thanks for the room makeover, and Sam generously offered to pay for Frank's breakfast. She grinned through the entire meal.

After breakfast, Frank dropped off a postcard for Bobby at the post office and decided to spend the rest of Saturday reading in her motel room. She really wanted to get through the Winchester Gospels, sooner rather than later.

"How many books have you gone through now?" Dean wanted to know when they met for dinner.

I read five today: _Skin, Hookman, Bugs, Home,_ and _Asylum._ I have to say, I'm really glad the murder charge turned out to be false...I mean, obviously, it's real, but you didn't actually kill anyone."

"You knew about the murder charge?" Sam looked surprised.

Frank gave him a stern look, "I did some checking up on you both after Dean tried to perpetrate credit card fraud at the grocery store when we first met."

"I can't believe you ran a background check on us!" Dean exclaimed.

"Don't act all wounded, Mr Judgey McJury-pants. I wasn't the only one going all 1984 around here." she said pointedly.

"How did you know that we checked up on you?" Sam was flabbergasted.

"I didn't, but now I do." Frank smirked.

"Walked into that one, bro." Dean admitted.

" _Hookman_ was really scary, and the _Asylum_ one just gave me the chills." Frank continued as if they'd said nothing.

"It wasn't a walk in the park for us either."

"Also, Chuck's descriptions don't always do you justice...there's just something weird about the way he describes you." she nodded at Dean, "And I always fell like he's holding back with you, Sam."

"Well, he shares plenty." Sam said grimly.

Frank raised her eyebrows curiously, "Don't tell me! I don't want you to spoil it for me!"

XXX

The next day was Sunday and Frank left a note under the Winchester's door explaining that if they needed her for anything, she'd be back from church around 10:30. She had slipped into a white knee-length pencil skirt and a dove-grey short-sleeved blazer. It wasn't too warm out yet, but Frank was well aware how fast the temperatures could change. It was the middle of September now and there was no sign of autumn in the air yet.

The service was pleasant and light. The message from the pulpit seemed to be geared to the general congregation, rather than the thinkers in the crowd. It suited Frank just fine, seeing as the mental contortions she'd been going through with the Winchester Gospels.

When Frank got back to the motel, she asked Sam if she could use his laptop to check her email.

She'd received an email from her grandfather, who was wondering when to expect her back, another from her best friend Stephanie, who wanted to know the same thing, and a message from Becky Rosen, who shared a link to the stories she'd written about Sam and Dean.

"What's slash?" Frank made a move to click on the link.

"What? No!" Dean's mortified glance caught Sam's eye and the brothers moved with synchronized precision. Dean lurched forward and slammed the laptop shut, yanking the plug from the wall. Sam wrapped an arm around Frank's torso and clamped the other hand across her eyes and pulled her up and out of the chair she'd been sitting in. Frank let out a shriek of surprise as Sam lost his balance and fell backwards onto the floor, in a sort of reverse tackle.

"Omph!" The two sprawled in a heap.

"Sam, what the _hell?"_

It was the first time the Winchesters had ever heard Frank curse.

"You just don't want to read slash..." Dean said emphatically.

"You could have just _said_ that; there's no reason to Ray Nitschke me!" Frank rolled off of Sam and got to her feet. She gave them a mild glare and sat back down at her computer.

"Wow..ok...wow, I didn't realize it was like that." Frank sat back from the laptop.

"Like what?"

"Well, that you and Sam were...uh, romantically involved."

Dean's face fell, "Why would you say..."

"Well, this story Becky wrote. I mean, I get why it wouldn't make the final draft of the books. They may have an underground cult following...but it's unlikely a publisher would allow _incest_ into the Winchester Gospels..." Frank frowns,"You know that the Church takes a rather dim view of this, right?"

"We're _not_ -! Sam and I have _never_ -! We're _brothers_ , not an alternative couple!"

"Well, then why would she write this?" Frank was confused.

"It's _fanfiction!"_ Dean exploded."It's not real! And we told you not to read that stuff!"

"Becky...just thinks she sees this sub-textual relationship beyond what's actually there." Sam said, a little strained.

"Apparently she sees it in a few places...because the next story she has here features Castiel as Dean's love interest. I mean, incest is one thing...but engaging in a sexual relationship with an angel of the Lord...while cheating on your brother...that's really twisted." Frank informed them.

"Me and Cas?" Dean paled, sitting down heavily on the bed.

"It's quite a popular pairing." Frank informed him. "There are about 30 comments on here from other readers...mostly positive."

"I need a drink."

"Oh, I knew about Dean/Cas." Sam said casually.

Dean looked sharply up at his brother. "What?"

"Yeah, and I gotta say it's way more plausible than you and me."

Dean's mouth opened and closed. "I can't believe this."

"It's pretty fanciful stuff that she writes. She writes that Castiel met you when he pulled you out of Hell." Frank rolled her eyes and smoothed her skirt over her thighs, a movement that Dean's eyes followed, "I mean, have you heard anything more ridiculous?"

"Yeah, crazy, right?" Dean smiled tightly.

"How _did_ you meet Castiel? Chuck hasn't mentioned him in the Gospels yet."

"Well, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you. Just read and find out." Dean replied tiredly.

"You're right, good thinking." Frank smiled and picked up the book she was currently starting, depicting a scarecrow on the cover. She settled onto the lumpy couch on the opposite end of the room.

A little while later she looked up from the pages, "Meg? As in, Demon Meg?" Her eyes were wide and uneasy.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. They were sitting at the table, cleaning the guns.

"Yeah." Sam said softly, setting his weapon down.

She bit her lip, nodded once, and bravely went back to reading.

"She just killed him." Frank trembled a little while later, "Just-" she made a slashing motion across her throat.

What could they possibly say to that? It wasn't like Meg was one of many big bads that they'd gotten rid of quickly and efficiently. They couldn't reassure her that the evil son of a bitch was dead and gone. Even now.

"Are _any_ of these stories happy?" Frank asked tiredly, finishing the rest of _Scarecrow_.

"Not...really." Sam admitted.

Frank sighed and picked up _Faith_. "This one has a hopeful title." she said, optimistically.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up, if I were you." Dean warned.

She nodded in acceptance and started to read.

"I like this Layla Rourke woman." Frank said, a little while later, getting up to help herself to some coffee. "I know what Roy LeGrange is doing so far is bad news, but I hope she's ok in the end."

Dean blinked, remembering Layla. "Yeah, me too." he said quietly to himself.

"Anyone interested in dinner?" Frank asked after taking a sip from the cup she'd poured herself.

"I am." Dean perked up. "I think I need some pie."

"You always think you need pie." Sam rolled his eyes, but started putting away the weapons.

"I'm pretty sure I saw a diner on the way back from church." Frank supplied.

Dinner was pleasant and filling. The three returned to their rooms happy and sated. Frank didn't bother attempting to finish Faith before bed. Tomorrow was another day. She'd get through them all eventually.

XXX

Frank finished _Faith_ the next morning before going to breakfast at the diner with the brothers. "I liked that one." Frank said quietly, nursing her coffee. "Layla is really great. I liked when she said, 'I guess if you're gonna have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen ... you have to have it when they don't.' I almost cried when you told her that you would pray for her...and then she told you that was a miracle." Frank shook her head, and smiled self-consciously. "Do you know what happened to her? Is she still alive?"

"I don't know." Dean said slowly, polishing off his pancakes. "We didn't exactly keep in touch."

They all sat in quiet contemplation as they finished their breakfasts.

"We probably should do laundry today." Sam said as they got up from the table, Frank leaving a sizable tip, as per usual.

XXX

"Take your coat off and leave it in the car. I'm not letting you go in there with a big, heavy, easy-to-conceal-things-in coat." Frank informed Dean as he drove the Impala into the Walmart parking lot.

Dean looked over at Sam, who just shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"And take your gun out of your pants-I'm not being metaphorical." Frank saw the glint in Dean's eyes at the innuendo he wanted to inject.

"Why in heaven's name you need to go everywhere armed to the teeth is beyond me." Frank muttered as she slid out of the car.

Sam and Dean followed her into the store.

"Did you know that 24% of all toothpaste purchased in North America is sold at Walmart?" she said conversationally as they passed by the Health and Beauty section.

Dean closed his eyes briefly, he did not need a Mini-Me version of Sam to put up with.

They quickly picked up the necessary laundry detergent, fabric softener and dryer sheets and headed towards the checkouts.

Frank was normally pleasant to cashiers and wait staff, but their foray into Walmart brought out an even more genial personality than usual. "How's you shift going? Has it been busy in here today?"

"Pretty busy." The young cashier agreed, "But that's normal."

"Well, at least the time seems to go faster that way." Frank smiled smiled.

"Did you find everything you needed?"

"Oh yes, thank you." Frank quirked her head, "And probably more. That tends to happen in here." she chuckled.

The cashier nodded and told her the total.

Dean looked at Sam questioningly. Why the hell was Frank acting like she had some sort of personally vested interested in how the cashier's day was going?

"She owns stock." Sam reminded him.

Of course she did.

The three of them headed back to the car.

Frank followed the Winchesters into the laundromat. There were only 3 other patrons inside; an older woman who was wearing pink curlers in her thinning hair and a young girl of approximately 17 who was balancing a squirming infant on her hip.

"We sort our laundry into 3 piles. Lights, darks, and clothes covered with supernatural shit." Dean informed Frank.

"If you want, you can throw your darks in with mine." Sam offered.

Frank produced a pair of jeans.

"That's all you brought to wash?" Dean asked.

"Everything else I own is dry-clean only or it needs to be washed by hand." Frank replied sheepishly.

"You wash your clothes by hand?" Dean was aghast.

"Well, you don't honestly expect me to toss silk lingerie into those machines do you?" Frank asked incredulously.

"That's a rhetorical question." Sam informed Dean when he saw his brother had opened his mouth to answer.

XXX

"Hey, you ok there?" Dean asked as Frank made a choking noise from the couch. They had finished the laundry and were back at the motel.

"Yeah, 'm'good." came the small reply. A page rustled.

Dean turned back to the heavy text he and Sam were reading only to be interrupted by a whimper. They looked up again with matching frowns. Then suddenly Frank tossed the paperback she was holding to the other end of the couch and pressed her fingertips onto her eyelids.

"Frank?"

"Four pages of porn!" she burst out.

Dean's eyebrow shot upwards.

"Huh?" and people thought Sam was the smart one.

"Well, eight, actually...since it's on both sides of the page...awkward...graphic... _hardcore_ porn!" Frank moaned through her fingers, "Really unnecessary _specific_ descriptions."

"Sam's sex scene is pretty graphic too!" Dean said defensively.

"Sam's? That's what I'm _reading!_ Wait, what?" Frank looked patently uncomfortable, _"You_ have one too? Oh, please just kill me now!"

"I have one before Sam does." Dean insisted.

Frank looked at the cover of her book, _Heart_ , "Oh bother, I picked up the wrong book, no wonder this was confusing otherwise..." she steeled herself and picked up where she left off, determined to finish the book.

Dean shook his head ruefully and went back to the ancient text.


	6. Hey Jude ~ The Beatles

 

Quite unexpectedly, Dean came across a possible case in the newspaper. He wasn't looking for one, but that happened sometimes.

He was pretty sure it was a chupacabra terrorizing the local livestock. He knew that he and Sam could wrap it up quickly if they headed down to Georgia straight away. Of course, that meant that Frank wasn't going to be going back to Canada immediately, but lives where at stake. She would understand.

"You're not allowed to come hunting with us, of course, but you can hang out at the motel til we get back." he informed her.

Frank nodded. Truthfully, Dean had expected a fight. He had to remind himself that Frank wasn't Jo, jumping at the chance to put herself in harm's way.

"I'll make sure there's something to eat when you get home." Frank said amenably.

"You don't want to come?" Sam asked, also a little surprised.

Frank looked at him as if he were nuts."Uh, no. What you guys do is incredibly dangerous. A bit beyond my realm of expertise. If you get hurt, I can patch you up. I can help with research. But I'm not really skilled in the art of disemboweling bogey monsters. I'll leave that to the pros."

XXX

They arrived in Roswell, Georgia within a few short days. Frank had abandoned the Winchester Gospels in favour of helping them research the case, and had spent the entire drive in the back seat surrounded by papers and open books.

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot in front of a fairly clean looking motel that promised WiFi and Cable. Sam rented two rooms and they all hunkered down in the boys' room to do some extra research before he and Dean headed out for the night.

The twilight skies were overcast and definitely threatened rain. Dean scowled at the clouds.

"Don't go near the windows. Don't disturb the salt lines...don't-" Sam was interrupted.

"Sam, you're scaring her!" Dean said gruffly.

Frank made sandwiches for the boys to take on the hunt.

Dean looked at her silently for a moment, possibly deciding whether or not to just ask her to marry him right now. Then his face broke into a huge smile, "Sam, why didn't you ever think of making sandwiches for me to take on a hunt?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

Once the boys left, Frank turned back to the Winchester Gospels. She'd mistakenly read Heart instead of continuing on with the next book in the series, _Route 666_ , which is what she'd picked up now.

She shifted uncomfortably as she read through Dean's intimate encounter with Cassie, and breathed a sigh of relief when she finished the last page of the book. She knew she was weirdly weird about Dean, "You can't develop a crush on a bibilical character...no matter how alive and attractive he is." Frank muttered to the empty room. She huffed out a breath and rose to her feet. She'd promised food for the Winchesters when they returned, so she'd better get on top of that, instead of pining over the least emotionally available superhero she'd ever met.

XXX

It was raining.

Ok, so that was the understatement of the century.

The rain was coming down in sheets, and it was icy cold. Dean was squinting into the onslaught, feeling the pinpricks of rain sting his face. His hair was soaked flat to his head and his eyelashes were spiked and dipping. He was miserable. He hated the rain.

XXX

The brothers stumbled in around 3 am, and Frank had hot chocolate, sandwiches and warm blankets ready for them.

Dean was especially soggy, and moaning. Thankfully, neither of the brothers had sustained any actual injuries during the hunt.

"He's very delicate." Sam explained to Frank, while Dean scowled fantastically at both of them.

Sam slipped into the bathroom for the first shower while Dean was occupied with the food.

"So, Sam is psychic?" Frank held up _Nightmare_. "He had a premonition in _Home_ too...does he still have them?"

"They were connected to Azazel." Dean said slowly.

"Who?"

"The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

"I probably should just wait til I finish reading before I start with the bible study questions," Frank said wistfully.

Dean smirked at the thought of his involvement in a bible parable.

"I noticed for cases you guys sometimes dress up and impersonate members of law enforcement to question witnesses." Frank frowned disapprovingly.

"Well, sometimes it's easier than relying on our animal magnetism to get answers. Though sometimes we use both."

"I think it's a little wrong for you to be flirty in a priest's costume."

"I'm non-denominational." Dean replied with a wicked smirk.

Frank made a sound in her throat that sounded like, 'Nngh', and she went quite pink in the face.

They head the shower turn off and Frank shielded her eyes from the sight of Sam's towel clad frame as he exited the bathroom.

"Sam, you're so hideous, she can't even look at you. Put some clothes on, Quasimodo."

XXX

Frank read _The Benders_ during Friday and finally Dean put his foot down and dragged her along with them to the bar.

"All work and no play makes Frank a dull girl." he insisted.

"If you say so."

"I say so." Dean replied, "Now change into those jeans you bought in Sioux Falls and get your ass in the car."

"Ass in the jeans, then ass in the car...yessir." she saluted with a cheeky smirk.

Six minutes later they were driving down the main drag.

As Frank and the Winchesters entered the bar, Dean kept an eye on their female companion. He didn't really know what to expect, but he figured Frank was going to be shooting horrified looks at the scummy interior of the place, with the peanut shells scattered on the floor and the smokey haze of cigarette smoke that hung low in the room.

The crowd was pretty eclectic. Roswell, Georgia was just outside Atlanta. The bar they were in was on the outskirts of town and attracted everyone from truckers passing through, to college kids, to lonely folks looking to hook up for the night.

And then, of course, there was Frank and the Winchesters.

Frank had chosen to wear her jeans with a shirt that was a little more revealing than anything Dean had seen on her. Ok, scratch that, it was a whole lot more revealing. The black tank top style shirt was scooped low, displaying Frank's truly impressive cleavage, and the bottom half of the shirt was sheer enough to showcase her trim waist. Dean was distracted more than once by the sight of her belly button. You'd think he'd never seen one before. It was a little slutty, not that Dean minded. At all.

"Nice shirt."

"Yeah..." Frank wrinkled her nose, "Product of the shopping spree Meg took me on. But I figured that since I paid for it, I'd better wear it."

That explained why it was so completely unlike Frank's usual style.

"It's kinda slutty." Frank admitted, "But it was the coolest thing I have in my suitcase...aside from, you know, actual lingerie. The weather here is ridiculously warm!"

The brothers order beers and Frank got herself a glass of the house wine. They settled into a booth.

The music in the bar was loud enough that you couldn't really hear what anyone else was saying, unless they were at your table, so the Winchesters relaxed enough for Frank to prattle on about Chuck's books.

"The Benders was the creepiest one so far. Those people were absolutely crazy."

"Amen, sister." Dean tipped his beer bottle towards her.

"But I guess, there's a fair amount of crazy and unusual around the world. It's a freaky, freaky world."

"Lady Gaga freaks Dean out." Sam shared, anecdotally.

Frank shot Dean an amused look, "What exactly about her freaks him out?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and then shrugged.

"He has yet to be able to articulate his reasoning." Sam translated.

"Understandable," Frank patted Dean sympathetically on the shoulder.

"My own personal theory is that Dean is getting old and therefore new music unsettles him. He's resistant to change in his senility." Sam nodded.

Dean glared.

Frank smiled and finished her glass of wine. "I think our waiter got lost. I'm going to order more drinks. Anyone else want anything?"

"I'll have another." Dean said.

"Me too." Sam agreed.

Frank hopped down from the booth and headed over to the bartender.

Dean kept his eyes trained on Frank as she scooted in next to a man in a suit, his jacket off and tie loosened, like he'd just come from the office. His slicked back hair looked like it had a bit too much pomade. She chatted with him as she waited to fill her order. He talked animatedly, emphasizing his words with hand gestures.

He handed her his business card after she talked to the bartender, who apparently promised to have the drinks brought to her booth.

"That guy at the bar gave me his business card." Frank said in amused disbelief, rejoining the Winchesters at their table.

"Yeah, we saw." Dean said.

"Martin Lowry, Attorney at Law."

"Fancy." Sam smiled at her.

Frank wrinkled her nose."I really don't think so. He was the kind of person who made 'air quotes'." She demonstrated with a grimace of distaste.

Dean grinned.

"What if it was some sort of celestial set up? You know, like maybe it was meant to be?" Sam suggested. Dean glared at him from behind his half empty beer.

"I'm sure that if God wanted me to sleep with that guy, He'd find a classier way of making it happen." Frank tucked the business card into her empty glass.

Dean felt the weight lift off his chest.

The Winchesters hadn't come to hustle, which was just as well, since there didn't appear to be a pool table, although there were a handful of people playing a half-hearted game of darts over in one corner.

Frank drew the line at getting drunk, "I don't want a repeat of last time. I vaguely remember serenading you guys with an Edith Piaf song." she chuckled ruefully as the waiter dropped off their drinks.

"You're a great singer, even though we couldn't understand you." Sam assured.

"Ah, _merci, monsieur_." Frank smiled.

Dean blinked and took another swallow of beer.

"I'm surprised you don't know any French, Dean." Sam said, "You spent some time in New Orleans for hunts, didn't you?"

"Yeah, just never picked up the language...latin always seemed more important." Dean shrugged. "I know the important one though: _'Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?'_ "

"Well, that's pretty direct. And most french girls won't go for that pick up line. _'Tu aurais envie de faire l'amour ce soir?'_ might work better. I could teach you a few phrases for your conquests, next time you go down there."Frank offered." _'Fais-moi l'amour',_ means 'Make love to me.' That's probably a handy one to know. _'Je veux passer la reste de ma vie avec vous',_ means 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you'."

Sam grinned in Dean's direction when he observed that his brother was downing his beer rather determinedly. He looked back at Frank and noticed that Frank had picked up on this as well. The smile on her face was truly mischievous, "And last but not least, one to definitely remember: _'Connais-tu les contrats de mariage?'_ That means 'Do you know what a pre-nuptial agreement is?' "

Dean choked on his beer.

"Hey, you be careful. Things get lost in translation, you could wind up married before you know what hit you. Though, truthfully, while we're a romantic bunch, the French are much more interested in making love than making marriages. Ah, _l'amour._ " Frank smiled.

Dean looked at his traitorously empty beer bottle.

"But, I doubt you need much help picking up girls." Frank cocked an eyebrow. "Either of you. You probably just need to look at a woman and say 'Now', and you're occupied for the evening."

Sam barked out a surprised laugh. Dean just stared at her in flat out disbelief.

Frank looked disappointed, "Oh dear, I think I'm tipsy again...I really didn't want that to happen." she sighed unhappily.

"I think we should take you back to the motel." Dean said firmly, sliding from the booth and helping Frank down from her seat.

"So, I was right to wear the slutty shirt?" Frank said perkily, leaning onto Dean's arm.

"That's not why we're taking you back to the motel." Dean wore a pained look on his face, and he looked back at Sam, who was laughing silently into his beer bottle.

"I shouldn't have thrown out that lawyers business card...he appreciated my slutty shirt." Frank scowled.

"I'm sure he did." Dean said grimly. "Come on, Sam, or I'm leaving you here with the lawyer."

XXX

They started heading north again, back on track with taking Frank home...well, at least until Sam caught wind of another case, via his laptop. Dean wondered briefly if Sam was purposely extending their time with Frank, but seeing as she didn't really seem to mind, he didn't question it.

She continued to read Chuck's books in the car, providing commentary when she felt it was warranted. "Hey, look! Bobby's in this book! He is awesome." she declared.

They stopped for the night in Spartanburg, South Carolina.

"Seriously, Meg is a psychopath!" Frank's lower lip trembled as they sat down at a booth in the local diner. "She possessed that poor girl for a whole year?"

"Yeah."

"So let me get this straight...demons that you exorcise can still get back out of Hell?"

"If they're determined enough."

"And there's no way, aside from the Colt, to kill them for good?"

"We have a knife. But you'd pretty much have to kill the host human to kill the demon." Dean said.

" _Merde_ , that's a pain in the pants." Frank frowned. "So Meg could come back?"

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"It's possible."

"And what can I get you folks this evening?" Sherry the waitress asked.

"Cheeseburger and fries and a Coke for me."

"I'll have the Cobb salad and water, thanks."

"What's the special?" Frank asked.

"Pulled pork sandwich with fries and a Coke."

"I'll have that, but make my Coke a coffee, please."

"Be right back."

"I knew something was off with John when you got him to the cabin...before the demon revealed himself. He wasn't acting normal. It was weird. I think I have a sixth sense about these things." Frank said, "Not, you know, like Sam's sixth sense...just...anyways. And I'm so glad when you stood by Dean when he figured out it wasn't John...even though things went south at first."

Dean grunted in agreement. He remembered being relieved when Sammy trusted him when he made that call.

"Although, this special children thing...I bet that's going to screw things up." Frank grumbled, "Is that what causes the Apocalypse?"

"Uh, in a manner of speaking." Sam said.

"And frankly, I don't know why you boys didn't think of traveling with a doctor before now. Dean alone needs a personal physician. First, whatever the demon did to his chest...and then having a tractor trailer t-bone the Impala? Honestly, I don't know how you two are even still alive." Frank threw up her hands in disbelief. "You must have more than one guardian angel apiece. They work shifts, or something."

Dean snorted at the image of Castiel punching in a time-clock.

"Of course, this time Dean survived because of John's deal." Frank conceded, "Blood loss, contusions to the liver and kidney, signs of cerebral edema, heart failure-those aren't things you just bounce back from unless there's some sort of supernatural intervention. Divine or otherwise."

"Most of our experience with recoveries like that tend to fall into the 'otherwise' category." Dean said grimly.

"I've seen miraculous recoveries." Frank said, "It happens more than you'd expect in the Emergency Room. I've seen tumours shrink without chemo or radiation. I've seen patients revive after plugs have been pulled. My attending used to say, 'there are no atheists in the ER'. I don't know about that...but I do know that, but I do know I've seen some pretty amazing things. I'd say that my success is 10% skill, 90% prayer...and that's saying something because I have awesome skills."

"And so modest." Dean grinned.

"Hey, why lie?" Frank leaned back with a smirk. "You know what they say about honesty being the best policy."

"Which means, by process of elimination, that dishonesty is the second best policy." Sam tossed over his shoulder.

"Who cares about second place? Dishonesty is just an also-ran." Frank waved a hand airily.

"Dishonesty is part of the Winchester family code." Dean supplied.

"I'll make a note to take everything you say with a grain of salt."

"Better make it a full shotgun round."

"Duly noted."

When she read Bloodlust after church the last Sunday of September, she'd given her opinion on Gordon Walker, "I really don't like this character. He's scary", and Lenore, "I'm still not so sure how I feel about the idea of 'good vampires'."

With the beautiful scenery flying by, Frank eventually gave in and bought a camera when they stopped to stretch their legs in Charlotte, North Carolina on Monday. She picked up some film and turned up her nose when Sam suggested she buy a digital camera.

"Digitals are for amateurs who don't know what they're doing."

She mostly took photos of the landscape and various aspects of architecture, but occasionally snapped sneaky candid shots of the Winchesters, which always left Dean scowling afterward.

She had nightmares after she'd read _Croatoan_ that Monday night, and skimmed over _Heart_ again, since it was the next book in the series, "Now it makes more sense."

Frank had a bad feeling when she read about Ruby. "People don't tend to pop out of no where just to help you guys." she said grimly, "No good will come of this."

Dean grinned.

"Just like selling your soul..." she continued, looking at Dean with an unreadable expression.

His grin flagged.

Frank noted that they were out of shampoo on Tuesday, so they stopped at a small pharmacy that evening before leaving North Carolina.

"What's this?" Frank picked up a bottle of body wash from the basket Dean was carrying towards the till.

"It's for you. It has a moisturizer in it and proceeds from the purchase go to some sort of self-esteem campaign." Dean smiled, "And it's pink."

"Yes, and it's also made by a company that sells skin lightening cream in Asia and Africa." Frank's lips were pressed together. "Because apparently only people in the Western Hemisphere are allowed to believe that beauty is not skin deep."

"Uh..."

"It's ok, I forgive you, you didn't know. I'll just put it back."

Sam joined Dean from the next aisle. "What's going on?"

"I'm learning how to be a socially conscious consumer." Dean muttered.

"Sounds like fun." Sam raised his eyebrows skeptically.

They stopped at a diner around noon on Wednesday while in Blacksburg, Virginia.

"My heart was breaking when Dean was teaching you take care of the Impala at the end of _Fresh Blood_." she confided to Sam.

The food came and they ate quietly.

"Also, I know neither of you seem to like her very much...but I sort of like Bela. She's insane, of course, but I still like her." Frank confided.

"I think you're insane." Dean muttered.

Frank ignored him, "I just finished reading _Mystery Spot_. Is it just me, or is there something off about that trickster?"

"It's not just you." Sam confirmed.

"You guys just can't catch a break, can you?"

Unfortunately, her words proved to be prophetic. Between the cases and the traveling, money was running low when they stopped for the night the next day outside of Scranton, Pennsylvania. Thankfully, this motel looked pretty cheap, even though it looked pretty full. The vacancy sign was still lit.

"I could just fall asleep now," Frank said, yawning as she followed Dean and Sam into the office to rent their rooms.

"I'd like to get two rooms." Dean said to the decrepit man behind the counter. "The lady needs a single and my brother and I will take the other."

"Only got one double occupancy left tonight. Two kings."

"I don't care," mumbled Frank, swaying sleepily into Sam, "I will sleep on the floor. I will sleep in the bathtub."

The old man looked disapproving at this idea. "You'll not be wantin' to sleep in the tub. "Then added as an afterthought, "Or on the floor."

"It's fine, we'll figure it out." Dean assured him and handed over his (Mortimer Elgin's) credit card.

They got back to the motel room and Frank dropped her bag onto the table by the window. "So, how's this going to work?"

"Sam and I will share." Dean said, wincing at the crick in his neck that was sure to form from such an endeavour.

"You and Sam can't be expected to sleep in the same bed. That's ludicrous. You'll get an elbow in your eye!" Frank exclaimed, "One of you will have to share with me, or I insist on getting a cot."

"You can't get cots in places like this."

"That settles it then. Who's with me?"

"Just give us a few hours and we'll have enough money to rent another room somewhere else." Sam said, "I think I saw a bar when we can in. A couple of games of pool and we'll be flush again."

"I have money for an extra room. You never let me pay." Frank sighed in exasperation. She yawned, "I don't really care what you do. I'm too tired to leave, so I'm staying here."

"I can sleep on the floor." Dean said. He was pretty tired too. The thought of having to go out and hustle pool did not appeal to him right now. He just wanted to sleep.

"Why do you both have such an issue with sleeping with me?" Frank frowned, "I don't move around alot and I'm small. You won't even know I'm there."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, "We don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Sam said, "After...you know..." he made a gesture between them, "...with Meg."

Frank rolled her eyes, "You're both a bunch of girls! We're just sleeping!" She flopped onto the bed closer to the window. "Whatever, you can both sleep on the floor for all I care. I'm going to bed." She lay there on top of the covers for a moment before getting up. "...After I brush my teeth." She disappeared into the bathroom with her toiletry bag. Seconds later she poked her head out of the bathroom, her green toothbrush hanging from her mouth, "That guy was right, no one's going to want to sleep in the tub." She popped back into the bathroom and shut the door.

"So, who's sharing with her?" Sam asked.

"I am."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I kept you from eating Play-dough as a kid."

Sam looked at him pointedly.

"Ok, ok, I kept you from eating that entire tub of Play-dough as a kid. You owe me."

"Whatever. It's probably better that you share with her anyways. I know she's acting more flippant about the Meg thing than she actually is."

Dean grunted in agreement and started undressing for bed.

"Uh..."

"Calm down, I'm keeping my t-shirt and shorts on." Dean rolled his eyes. "'Sides, I don't have anything she hasn't seen before. She is a doctor, after all."

"Yeah, but I bet she's not a doctor who sleeps with her patients." Sam pointed out. "Remember Dean-reality...porn...and how there's a difference?"

"Well, then it's fortunate for me that she's not my doctor." Dean grinned wolfishly and slipped under the covers. He flipped the other side down so Frank would know who she was sharing with.

Frank opened the bathroom door and padded barefoot into the room in a periwinkle racer back tank top and matching striped boxer shorts. Emphasis on the short.

"Aren't you going to brush your teeth?" she asked the boys.

"Right, teeth..." Dean got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom before Sam could.

"So, guess I'm bunking with Dean then." Frank observed. "Did you play rock, paper, scissors to decide?"

Dammit, why hadn't he thought of that? Sam frowned, "No."

"Well, goodnight then." She crawled under the covers, flopped face down, and almost immediately fell asleep.

Dean finished in the bathroom shortly after. "She really was tired, wasn't she?" he cocked his head in Frank's direction.

"Out like a light as soon as she hit the pillow." Sam agreed, heading to brush his teeth.

"Night, Sam."

"Goodnight."

Dean pulled back the covers and tucked himself in beside Frank. Lying on his back he yawned widely and reached across Frank to turn out the bedside lamp. Hmm, it was further away than he'd estimated...he scooted into a sitting position and reached over her head again, almost losing his balance and landing on top of her as he tugged the chain, plunging the room into darkness. He wiggled back down under the covers. Frank didn't stir once during all of his bouncing around on the mattress.

He closed his eyes and was fast asleep by the time that Sam had finished up in the bathroom.

Sam switched off the bathroom light and stood in the doorway while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the moonlit room. Finally he made his way over to his own bed and crawled in. He looked over to the bed next to him, at the sleeping frames of his brother and Frank. He could see that Dean's body was curled around Frank's. Even in sleep he was a protector. Sam smiled softly and closed his eyes. Sleep swiftly claimed him.

XXX

The next morning, Sam was up first. He slipped out of the motel room to pick up coffee. When he returned, he found Frank sitting up in bed. She was reading _Jus In Bello_ , "Trouble just follows you around, doesn't it?" she smiled at him, tenting the book on her lap and accepting the coffee, "Thank you, Sam."

The smell of the dark roast so close to his sleeping head brought Dean around to the land of the living. "Morning." he mumbled, stretching his arms. "How'd everyone sleep?"

"Really well, thank you." Frank said, blowing over the top of her cup.

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and Sam handed his coffee to him. "Thanks."

Frank picked up her book again, "I like this Agent Henrickson. I'm glad he accepted what you told him about demons and that he's helping you, especially after his last few encounters with you...I was praying that you'd catch a break like that at some point."

The Winchesters said nothing and simply sipped on their coffee.

"Something bad is going to happen, isn't it?" Frank frowned at their lack of response. She sighed heavily, "Don't tell me, I'll find out soon enough..."

Shortly thereafter, Frank rose from bed and began to pick out clothes to dress in, "So far it doesn't look good." she said, taking her clothes into the bathroom to change.

Sam and Dean were dressed when she came back into the room. "Let's go for breakfast and I'll finish it in the car."

After breakfast at the local diner,(during which Sam came across a possible case in Jackson, Tennessee), they checked out of their one motel room and packed into the Impala.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Frank said as she finished the book, "They're dead. Lilith killed them all." she picked up the next book, _No Rest For the Wicked_. "It's going to get worse before it gets better, isn't it?" She held up the cover for Sam and Dean to see.

Dean glanced in the rear-view mirror and his expression darkened. "Much worse."

"Of course." she said grimly, and settled back into her seat to read.

XXX

"So, where are we going?" Frank looked up.

Sam and Dean shared a look, "Would you be mad if I said we're going to Tennessee?"

"Where Davy Crockett is from?"

"Huh?"

"You know, _'Born on a mountain top in Tennessee, Greenest state in the land of the free. Raised in the woods so's he knew every tree, Killed him a bear when he was only three. Davy, Davy Crockett! King of the Wild Frontier!_ ' "Frank sang, "That Tennessee?"

"Please don't sing that again." Dean had a mortified look on his face, while Sam was shaking in silent laughter. "Yes, that Tennessee, only we're not visiting Davy Crockett...we're hunting a wendigo."

Frank shuddered, "Nasty things..."

"So, it's ok if we go back south again?" Sam asked, getting a hold of himself.

Frank shrugged, "I'm not on any sort of schedule, and if I was I would just tell you to drop me off at the nearest airport and I'd fly home."

"Oh." Dean frowned.

"But, you know, like I said, I'm not on any sort of schedule, so...drive on, good sir." Frank went back to reading.

XXX

"I don't understand." Frank said bluntly as they got out of the car when Dean's stomach decided they needed to stop for dinner. "You died." She looked perfectly flummoxed.

"Read the next book." Dean advised tiredly.

Frank nodded, brow furrowed.

They ate in relative silence. Frank looked like she wanted to asked the Winchesters a question several times, but she stopped herself.

They got two motel rooms and Frank sat on one of the beds in the boys room and read Lazarus Rising while they cleaned their weapons.

"Castiel just...Pamela's eyes..." Frank looked up at the brother's in horror.

"Yeah, he made a really bad first impression." Dean agreed.

Frank finished the book as the Winchesters finished putting away their cleaned arsenal. She rose from the bed and headed silently for the door. With her hand on the handle, she stopped and turned, looking like she wanted to say something. She made her way back to the table where the brothers sat and stood in front of them for a beat.

They looked up at her curiously.

"I-" Frank stopped herself before saying anything else. She looked over at Sam and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of his head. She pulled back and sighed, Sam looked up at her in startled surprise. She gave him a small smile and turned to Dean. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached out the hand not holding her book, to cup Dean's jaw. His eyes held hers until she leaned in and pressed her lips to his temple.

She stepped away and gave them both one last look. Then, without a word, she turned and left.

Sam and Dean sat at the table for quite a while after, lost in their own thoughts.

XXX

Frank had finished reading _In the Beginning_ and _Metamorphosis_ before Dean noticed that she was breathing uncomfortably in the back seat of the Impala. They were just outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

"You ok back there?" Dean wanted to know.

"'M'good." Frank breathed, closing her eyes and leaning back to expose her neck to whatever breeze might offer relief from the windows. "I'm just not built for this climate. Why is it so hot? This is the beginning of October, for pity's sake!"

"Didn't you spend 6 months in Haiti?"

"Yes, and I thought I was going to die, every second. I've never had heat exhaustion so many times in my life."

"Well, we'll stop soon. We'll get a motel."

"With A/C, if that's at all possible." Frank murmured hopefully, "Otherwise we have to get two rooms, because I'm definitely sleeping naked tonight."

The Impala swerved slightly on the road, "Fuck!"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed.

"Sorry, I'm getting delirious, I'm not filtering what I'm thinking...or saying." Frank mumbled sleepily.

XXX

As luck would have it, the only motel in town had only one vacancy. And no A/C. Frank looked like she would cry if she had the energy.

"There's an oscillating fan, though." the clerk at the front desk said sympathetically.

XXX

The Winchesters left Frank in the motel and headed out to buy some food. When they returned they found Frank lying spread-eagle, face up, on top of the sheets, dressed in her pajamas. The shirt was rolled up under her breasts, the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and the pants were rolled up to her knees. Her face was flushed and her skin glistened, her hair curled around her face damply.

"Will you read to me?" she asked pitifully, fingers tracing the cool spine of Yellow Fever, before her eyes closed.

"Did she just pass out?" Sam started, dropping the bags of takeout on the floor. He rushed to Frank's side. "Frank? Frank?"

Dean went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He ran the water cold. He went over to the bed and scooped Frank into his arms.

"What are you going to do?" Sam followed anxiously.

Dean deposited Frank under the cold spray. She quickly came to with a gasp, "Did I lose consciousness? Am I brain damaged? I am, aren't I? Quick! Ask me something!"

Dean turned the shower off, "Uh-What's the capital of Kandahar?"

"What? Kandahar is the second largest city in Afghanistan...Kabul is the capital of the country." Frank looked confused.

"Ha...trick question." Dean said, looking embarrassed.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Why do you act dumb when you're not?" Frank's head lolled heavily to her shoulder.

"Uh.."

"You're really smart," Frank murmured to Dean with a small smile.

Dean quirked an eyebrow, unused to that kind of a compliment, "Sammy's the smart one."

"Don't sell yourself short, you're more than just a pretty face."

Dean didn't really know what to say to that.

"I'm cold now." Frank informed them, "And my pajamas are wet."

"It's ok, they'll dry. Do you have a t-shirt and loose pants?" Sam asked, helping her stand.

Frank looked at Sam as though he was stupid, "Nope."

"We'll find you something to wear to bed," Dean promised.

XXX

Eventually, Frank was situated on one of the beds, a bottle of water and copy of Yellow Fever in hand. She wore a t-shirt of Dean's and a pair of Sam's boxers.

"It's a good thing we did laundry before we left Bobby's," Dean muttered, "Otherwise we wouldn't have had anything clean for her to wear. How does a woman with so many clothes not think to bring more than one pair of pajamas?"

Sam shrugged.

"I like books that Bobby appears in." Frank piped up from across the room, she waved her book in emphasis, "He really loves you guys, you know that?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"Yeah, Bobby's like family." Dean agreed, "Been there for us more times than I can count."

"My father is just awesome," Frank said happily before she went back to reading.

XXX

The next morning, when Frank had finished her book and was dozing soundly on the bed, Dean got a call on his cellphone.

"Detective Ballard? Of course I remember you."

Sam looked over from his laptop, _Baltimore?_ he mouthed.

Dean nodded, then frowned, "What kind of problem?"

When he got off the phone, he went over to sit with Sam at the table. "I think we have to make a short detour to Baltimore."

"Why?"

"Drained bodies. Detective Ballard has been finding them around the city. The other cops are thinking some sort of spree killer. She thinks it's our sort of gig."

"Well, as far as we know, the thing in Tennessee is a wendigo. It'll keep for a few days while we deal with Detective Ballard's problem in Baltimore." Sam said.

"From what she said, it sounds like vampires." Dean nodded, "Man, it's been so long since we got to chop off heads."

"Wow, really not something I wanted to hear just waking up." came Frank's voice from the bed.

"We're taking a detour. We have to go to Baltimore." Dean said, "Vampires."

"What about the wendigo in Tennessee?"

"It'll still be there."

XXX

"There is a distinct lack of informative road signs around here." Frank grumbled as she peered at the map again before squinting out the window determinedly.

"It's ok, Frank. I know how to get there." Dean assured her.

"It's true. His sense of direction is uncanny. If there's trouble, he'll find it." Sam grinned.

Dean turned up Ramblin' On and began singing along, off-key.

Sam suspected that his big brother would sing off-key on purpose, half to annoy Sam, half so that Sam didn't sound so bad in comparison.

"I think what you need is some time off for a little bit of nice, clean fun." Frank decided, amused at the antics in the front seat.

Dean looked as though he wanted to tell her that it wasn't clean fun he needed. But Sam had taken to scowling at him disapprovingly much too often, and he didn't want his brother's face to stick that way.

"Maybe once we wrap up this job...and the one in Tennessee...and get you back to Canada, we can take some time off."

Sam gave Dean a surprised glance. His brother hadn't exactly slowed down since the averted apocalypse, with the exception of the few weeks he'd spent with Lisa and Ben and their recent stay at Bobby's. Sometimes he couldn't figure Dean out.

"So tell me about this contact in Baltimore. I haven't read the book yet, so I don't know how you know them."

"Detective Diana Ballard arrested us during a job, and then ended up helping us solve the case after she saw a death omen." Dean said.

"Her partner tried to kill her." Sam supplied.

"And me, he tried to kill me too." Dean reminded Sam.

Sam nodded. "And then she killed him."

"She killed Dean?" Frank was confused.

"No, she killed her partner." Dean corrected.

Frank rolled her eyes. "Hey, it's a legitimate question."

"Fair enough." Dean agreed.

XXX

"I love Baltimore." Frank grinned as they entered the city limits.

"You've been here before?" Dean asked.

"Johns Hopkins is in Baltimore." Frank explained.

Sam turned around in the front seat, "You did your residency there, right?"

"That's right. And then I went down to Haiti to finish it off." Frank nodded.

"I think at some point you should learn how to fire a shotgun." Dean decided suddenly.

"Non sequitur, much?" Sam furrowed his brow.

"It never hurts to have backup." Dean said, "And once she's back in Canada, she should know how to protect herself."

"I'm not really familiar with guns." Frank jutted her jaw doubtfully, then perked up, "But I took fencing lessons when I was younger. Are there many sword-fighting demons out there? I'm a little rusty, but it's something. How useful would a sword be in a fight with a demon?"

"Not very. It would probably telekinetically rip the sword from your hand...and then rip your arm from your body."

"So...pretty much-I'm useless. Good to know."

"You'd make good bait." Dean said, hoping to soothe her.

"We're not ever using her as bait." Sam said firmly.

"Why not? If I was going to be bait for anyone, I'd feel better about it being for you guys. At least I know you'd keep me safe."

"Bobby would kill us bloody, though."

"Sam, dude, will you unclench?"

"Shut up, Dean."

"Your sword fighting skills could come in handy with the vampires, though." Dean ignored his brother." Just trade the sword for a machete, and you're good to go."

"'Hara kiri'." Sam reminded, "Those were Bobby's exact words."

"I'm not going to take her on any hunts. But that doesn't mean she can't learn some skills to take home after summer camp is over." Dean said pragmatically. "What she chooses to do with those skills is entirely up to her."

Sam gave up arguing.

XXX

Sam wore suits well. He looked comfortable in them, natural. He stood up straighter, walked with a confidence. Kind of like the lawyer he had gone to school to be. Mr. GQ Lawyer.

Dean looked like a tired homicide detective whenever he wore a suit. He tugged at his tie often, shrugged his shoulders as if the jacket was too tight and itched.

Sam was having second thoughts about the decision to dress as State police as the brothers entered the police station and headed to the front desk. There had been much debate as to whether or not they should even show their faces within a city block of the Baltimore police station. Dean, however, was of the opinion that the chances of them being recognized were slim enough that they had to try.

"We'd like to talk to Detective Ballard, we're with the Maryland State Police Department."

They had dropped Frank off at the local pub that she had frequented as a resident, and headed straight for the station.

Ballard gave them the lowdown on the situation, after expressing relief that they'd come to her aid.

"I've done my research, and the only conclusion I've come to is that we have a vampire on our hands." She explained, "But I don't know what to do. I mean, I don't know the first place to look. I don't know if I should arrest it...or stake it."

"Staking it won't kill it." Dean shook his head quickly, "You have to chop off the head. You can slow it down with dead man's blood, but that won't kill it. Also, forget garlic. And holy water. And crucifixes."

"Don't worry about it, we'll take care of it." Sam said.

And with that, they left the station, leaving Diana Ballard stunned in their wake.

XXX

"Hi there." Frank hopped up onto a bar-stool. "Busy tonight, isn't it?"

"Sure is. Busier than usual. But you don't sound like you're from around here. What can I get you to drink?"

"I'm from Canada, this was my bar when I was doing my residency at the hospital.. I'm Frank, by the way."

He shook her offered hand, "I'm Eli."

"Your accent isn't local either, Eli. Where are you from originally?"

"Here and there. Most recently Montana."

"I hear it's really nice there."

"It was, but I left anyway." Eli gestured to the liquor behind him, "I make a mean Bloody Caesar."

"Mm, I think I'll pass." Frank dazzled, "I never liked the idea of tomato and alcohol together. I'll just have your house Shiraz."

"Coming right up."

Frank set her clutch on the bar, nudging the bowl of peanuts away.

"So what are you doing back in Baltimore?" Eli set the glass of wine in front of Frank.

"Oh, just road-tripping with some friends." Frank shrugged, "We're actually heading back to Canada, but I thought it would be nice to see the old stomping grounds."

Eli nodded and moved down the bar to take another order.

Frank was glad she had secured a stool because the place was really getting packed.

"Lenore, we've got customers waiting!" Frank heard Eli shout across the room and time seemed to stop.

Lenore wasn't a common name. Frank felt her mind flipping like a Rolodex. Categorizing and deducing. If Frank was not mistaken, there was little chance that Lenore and bartender Eli were not the vampires that she'd read about in Chuck's books.

She felt her heart-rate ratchet up a few notches.

"You ok?" she heard Eli say to her.

Could he hear her heat beat? Frank wracked her brain to remember if vampires could read minds. She didn't think so.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just remembered that I forgot to tell my friends where to meet me." Frank pulled out her phone. Quickly she texted 'SOS' to Dean's number. "I'm going to grab a booth."

XXX

Miraculously Frank was able to slip into a recently vacated booth with her glass of wine. She played with the stem of the glass nervously.

A pale woman with long dark hair and large eyes slid into the booth after Frank. She wore a t-shirt with the logo of the pub on it and a name-tag which declared her to be 'Lenore'.

Frank held her breath and stayed very still.

Lenore regarded Frank for a long moment. "I know that you know what we are." she said finally.

"I thought you might." Frank said slowly.

"I know why you're here." Lenore continued.

"No, you don't." Frank gave a small smile.

"We haven't hurt anyone."

"I know."

"Where are the others?" Lenore looked a little confused.

"They're coming." Frank held up her cellphone demonstratively.

"We're trying to stop the one who is killing people, so we can go back to living in peace." Lenore continued.

"Do you know who it is? It is a vampire, isn't it?"

"It's a new vampire. He hasn't learned to control himself yet." Lenore leveled her gaze at Frank, "It's not easy."

Frank steeled her jaw, "I never said it was. What do you plan to do to stop this new uncontrollable vampire? You know that if you don't stop him, someone else will."

XXX

Dean and Sam slipped into the pub as inconspicuously as possible. Sadly, 'SOS' was not the most descriptive distress signal one could receive, but they'd worked with less before.

Sam spotted Frank at the booth first, "Dean, I see her, she looks ok."

"Wait, is that Lenore?" Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder.

Sam frowned, "Yeah, I think it is." he looked toward the bar, "There's the other one...Eli, I think his name is."

"What's going on here, Sam?" Dean wondered.

"Let's go find out."

"Frank, are you ok?" Sam asked as the brothers approached the booth.

"Lenore," Dean nodded, "Been a while."

"I knew you were in town the second she walked through the door." Lenore said, "Your scent was all over her."

"Ok, awkward." Sam grinned as Dean blushed.

"I have to say, that's a relief." Frank admitted, "I was half a breath away from a panic attack thinking we had psychic vampires on our hands."

"That would be a nightmare." Dean agreed.

"Lenore was just pleading her case. She tells me it's not one of her group."

"Not, per se." Lenore corrected.

"Ok, then who is, per se?" Dean wanted to know.

"His name is Tavis. He's a newly turned vampire. He was kicked out of his first pack because he was drawing too much attention to them. Unfortunately, he settled here. And he's been wreaking havoc ever since. He's going to bring hunters down upon us. He has brought hunters down upon us."

"So you know where Travis is?" Dean asked impatiently. A vampire would talk your ear off, if you let them.

"Tavis." Lenore clarified, "And all I know is that he frequents this area. Especially near the hospital."

"Well, in that case, I'd better get back to the motel. I'll meet you gentlemen when you're done." Frank slid from the booth.

"You're not going with them?" Lenore asked in surprise, "Aren't you a hunter?"

"I'm a lover, not a fighter." Frank said airily.

Lenore gave a small smile.

"Don't you get any ideas." Dean pointed a finger in front of Lenore's nose, "She's a civilian and she's off limits." He placed his hands on Frank's shoulders and marched her towards the door. "Go straight to the motel. Do not stop to chat with any locals. Do not help old ladies cross the street. Do not rescue street children. Lock the door. Keep a machete by your side at all times. If Lenore is right and this new vamp has gone off the reservation-"

"That's a politically incorrect term, it is referring to a member of a tribe leaving the reservation to which they are restricted. It's very offensive. I would prefer if you didn't-"

"You can lecture me on the etymology later, ok? Right now I just want to get you back to the motel and keep you safe. There's a raving lunatic out there and Sam and I have to go take care of it."

"Oh Dean!" Frank cried in falsetto, "Don't make me swoon with your sesquipedalian vocabulary!"

"I'm serious, Frank!" Dean growled, "This nutjob is dangerous."

"Ok, ok, I'm going. Sheesh!"

"Be careful. Maybe I should just drive you back..."

"I'll be fine. My skirt's not short enough to attract any real attention, and I can run fast in heels. I should have been a superspy..."

Dean rolled his eyes and went back inside, shaking his head.

"You'd think he was my father." Frank muttered under her breath.

"It's a little late for a pretty woman like you to be walking home alone, isn't it?" A shadowy form stepped up behind her.

"Listen, I have stilettos on and I know how to use them, ok? I'm not interested." Frank said without a backwards glance as she started to head off down the street.

He gripped her arm and spun her around to face him, backing her into the brick wall of the bar.

"You'll stay."

"Ok, are you for real? Let me go or I'll scream." Frank said patiently, if a little rattled.

"It won't do you much good." The man was young, attractive...at least until his set of pearly whites transformed into a set of vicious fangs.

Frank, for her part, was horrified by what she saw. She felt the breath deflate from her lungs like a week old birthday balloon. Merde, she thought, Didn't Lenore say that this Tavis joker hung out around the hospital? What on earth is he doing here?

"I think I'll take you home, make you my mate..." Tavis breathed into her ear.

That woke Frank from her passivity. She shrieked in frustration as she began to struggle madly in the vampire's grip.

"Don't you want to be my Queen of the Damned?" Tavis sulked as he held her firmly beneath him, "Don't you want to be my Bella?"

"One too many Anne Rice novels and suddenly you think you're Lestat! Let go of me, you Twi-hard! Let go of me before I go Van Helsing on your ass! LET ME GO!"

"I need a mate. Vampires mate for life and I'm lonely."

"You are one sick puppy. Pardon my political incorrectness, but do I seem like someone who wants to be a emotional retard? Are you high?"

"But you're so pretty."

"Pretty doesn't always equal stupid, you moron."

"Women think that vampires are hot."

"No, pre-teens think that sparkly sulking suckers are hot. I am not prepubescent. LET GO OF ME!" Frank looked around, but the street was empty. The music from the bar also drowned out any chance that anyone could hear her inside.

XXX

"She is gonna kill me with that smile of hers some day." Dean muttered under his breath as he rejoined Sam and Lenore at the booth.

Sam gave him a questioning sidelong look.

"I should have driven her back to the motel." Dean frowned.

"Dean, if you feel that strongly about it, go pick her up." Sam shrugged. "She's wearing those ridiculous shoes and she has short legs, she probably hasn't gotten all that far."

"Her legs are just fine." Dean snapped.

Sam's eyebrows met his hairline, "Yeah, fine, her legs are great."

"Why have you been looking at her legs?" Dean demanded, "You like her or something?"

"Uh..." As much as Dean's freak-out was highly entertaining, they had work to do. "Listen, just take her back to the motel and then meet us at the hospital."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Do. You. Like. Her."

"No, come on, Dean, let's get going."

"Why don't you like her? What do you think is wrong with her? She's way out of your league, man, don't-"

"I am not having this conversation." Sam rose from the booth.

"I'll meet you at the hospital." Lenore said, following the brothers to the door.

"We'll be there soon." Sam assured her, and held open the door.

"LET ME GO!"

"Frank?" Sam started toward the shadowy figures against the building.

Panic that Dean has only ever known for one other person raced through his system. He grabbed for his keys and booked it to the trunk of the Impala. It took him three tries before he got the trunk open and he began rooting through their arsenal. Where the hell did Sam put the machetes? "We need some sort of IKEA shit back here." he grumbled under his breath as his hand closed around the handle of one of the knives.

When he returned to the front of the bar, Lenore was lying stunned on the ground and Sam was engaged in combat with the newbie vamp.

"Sam! Move!" Dean barked as he sliced towards the vampire.

Sam threw himself out of the way and Dean dispatched Tavis' head from his body. Killing a vampire was almost always messy and Frank was left covered in blood.

"So, now can can we go to Tennessee?"

"Not until you change." Dean gestured with his machete at her blood soaked clothing, "I don't want the Impala smelling like stale vamp blood."

"And also, it might be uncomfortable to spend a car ride covered in any sort of bodily fluid." Frank pointed out.

Dean nodded in agreement.

XXX

They arrived in Jackson early Sunday morning and found a small rustic motel in town. The boys checked Frank into the rooms and headed straight out to hunt for the wendigo, making the most of the daylight hours.

"Or best bet is the logging company that went under about 80 years ago. There was a few people who were killed or went missing during the course of one surveyor trip." Sam explained, "I bet that's where the wendigo came from. There's an old abandoned look-out tower a few miles into the woods."

Frank headed down the street for breakfast at the nearest diner. It was moderately busy when she walked in. The waitress directed her to a table and she sat with a copy of The Jackson Sun, the local newspaper, open in front of her.

"Coffee, and a glass of water, no ice, please." Frank smiled up at the young waitress with a name-tag that read Annabeth.

"Now, where're you from, hon? You sure don't sound like you're from 'round here." Annabeth smiled when she returned with the ordered beverages.

"I'm from Canada, actually. Just in town for a day or two." Frank took a sip of her coffee, "Oh, that's lovely, thanks."

"On vacation?"

"Sort of. Visiting my father in South Dakota, then decided to take a bit of a road trip." Frank shrugged and smiled.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself. You ready to order?"

"I'll have some french toast, please."

"That'll be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'll be back in a jiffy." Annabeth left to fill Frank's order.

Frank was devoting her attention back to her coffee and paper when there was a commotion at the door. She looked up, almost expecting to see the Winchester returning from their hunt, but it was much too early for that.

"Ed. Ed!"

"What?"

"Do you think we got enough footage?"

"Yeah, Spruce will have plenty to edit. Come on, let's find a table."

"There's one over there."

Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler found seats in the booth next to Frank's.

XXX

Dean managed to muscle passed Sam and into the bathroom first to shower. Unfortunately the hot water didn't do much to ease his bone weariness and when he finally emerged from the bathroom wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, it was all he could do to crawl weakly under the covers of his bed.

Sam's shower was short, thanks to the small hot water tank feeding their motel room. He stumbled painfully from the bathroom, his towel wrapped around his waist, and fell face down on his bed, moaning pitifully.

"Y'okay, Sammy?" Dean mumbled.

Sam just groaned in reply.

There was a knock at the door, "Hey guys, I saw the car, you in there? Open up, I bought dinner."

Dean wished that Frank would just break down the door so he didn't have to get up off the bed. He groaned and hoisted himself to his feet, shuffling over to the door, feeling like an old man. He swung the door open.

Frank held her brown bag of Chinese food aloft. "Best Chinese in town, I did my homework."

"Come on in," Dean swung the door wider and stepped aside.

"You look a little stiff. Did the hunt go ok?" Frank asked in concern, breezing by him and setting the bag on the table by the window.

"Yeah, the wendigo is dead. We're just a little sore." Dean replied.

"Sam, are you alright?" Frank's eyes flicked over to Sam's prone form in the bed.

"'M'fine." came the muffled reply.

"You should go see a chiropractor or a massage therapist or something. I understand that acupuncture is quite effective with aching muscles." Frank recommended.

"I'm just stiff, is all. It'll pass."

"Or you'll strain something." Frank pointed out.

"I'll be fine, I have just as much chance of getting hurt as average people do in their regular lives." Sam said, rolling over onto his back with a grunt. "Don't worry about it."

"See, the difference between you guys and uh, 'average people' is that, well, us average people worry about getting hit by a bus, getting struck by lightening, you know...it's there, in the back of our minds. But you two...you two go out of your way to step in front of who even knows what. So yeah, I'm worried." Frank had an edge in her voice.

"Aw, I'm glad you care." Dean quipped and turned to investigate the food. "Whatcha bring us?"

"Bit of everything, but the extra eggroll is mine." Frank said, joining him at the table, shooting him a 'touch it and you die' look.

"Sam, you comin' over, or do you expect us to spoon feed you?" Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. Sam was still lying on the bed.

"If it's not too much trouble..." Sam joked, not making a move.

"Are you really ok, Sam?" Frank took a bite out of her eggroll, and wiped her fingers on one of the paper napkins.

"Yeah," Sam breathed.

"I don't think you are." Frank set the containers of food back down on the table. "Here, flip over. I know how tense your neck was that one time...if that's any indication. If you've pulled something, you should have it taken care of sooner rather than later. Come on." she knelt on the edge of the bed.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Dean said grimly.

"Medical school gave me a general idea of what the musculoskeletal system looks like. "Frank winked at him. She turned back to Sam, "Besides, you can pretty much see everything here. Sam's made it easy...I mean, look at how defined his muscles are. No, I can handle this for sure."

Dean busied himself with his food. He was really uncomfortable with how frank she was about his brother's body. He glared at his chicken fried rice.

Sam ducked his head and gripped a secure hand over the waist of his towel as he rolled over onto his stomach. "Shouldn't I put some pants on?"

"No, this is fine, I have no interest in groping your ass, so rest assured, you're safe." Frank sounded amused, reaching out to touch him.

Dean's appetite was slowly disappearing. Disgruntled, he shoved more food determinedly into his mouth and chewed vigorously.

"I made some friends in town today." Frank pressed her fingers into the muscle tissue, "Two guys who are making some sort of documentary...actually, I think it's a series. Harry and Ed. They're hunters...well, sort of." Frank considered, "They call themselves Ghostfacers, so I guess it would be more accurate to say-"

"You met the Ghostfacers?" Dean asked sharply.

"You know about them? Are you fans? I'm sorry, I didn't get their autographs," Frank frowned, then brightened, "We exchanged email addresses though."

"No, we are not fans." Dean grimaced. "Those guys are pains in our asses."

"Are you a Facer-hater, Dean?" Frank looked like she was barely containing a grin.

"Damn right I am. Those idiots nearly got us killed."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." Dean grumbled.

"They're amateurs." Sam said, a little more calmly than Dean. Of course, he was getting a massage, so that probably had something to do with it.

"What are they doing in town?"

"Talking to locals about the local urban legends. It didn't seem like they were getting much, though." Frank leaned into the massage, seeking out the knots along Sam's back. "They mentioned going down to New Orleans."

"Oh, right there." Sam moaned.

Dean pushed his food away.

XXX

They started driving north again the next day.

"Please, I beg you...can we please rent a motel that has a kitchen? And buy some groceries? I don't know how much more diner food I can eat." Frank looked apologetic about her complaints.

Dean gave Sam a look that clearly said, 'And this is why we don't bring chicks on the road.' "One motel with kitchen coming right up."

Frank smiled at him weakly in the rear-view mirror in the backseat.

XXX

"I bought groceries!" Dean sang out as he burst through the door.

"My hero!" Frank grinned and accepted the plastic bags from him. She took them into the small kitchenette and began unloading them. "Milk, butter, and boxes of Kraft Dinner... wow... that's... really..." her smile looked a little forced as she turned around and gesticulated for words. "Lovely."

Dean beamed and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Ok, so...instructions on the side of the box..." Frank turned the box of KD over in her hands and started to read.

"You read the instructions?" Sam asked, "Doesn't, like, everyone know how to make that stuff from memory?"

"No, not everyone." Frank looked over at him. "I can make home made macaroni and cheese from scratch and it tastes like heaven...but every time I make Kraft Dinner it turns out wrong." she considered, "And it never turns out wrong the same way."

"What d'you mean?" Dean frowned.

"Either the noodles are too soft...or they're too hard...or the sauce is to runny...or it sticks to the bottom of the pan...and I follow the same instructions every time." she looked put out.

"Ok, guess that means that I'm makin' dinner tonight." Dean gave her an appalled look.

"How did you make it through university?" Sam joked.

"It was tough, but I survived." she shrugged. "Plus I heard med students at McMaster University got scurvy because they tried to survive on KD, so I tried to avoid that."

XXX

"What's wrong with this? It tastes funny."

"Come on, it's good!" Dean insisted, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth.

"I think your taste buds are defective." Frank muttered, taking another hesitant bite of the noodles.

XXX

"Ok, please tell me you got rid of this demon, Alastair..." Frank entreated after dinner, waving the next novel around for emphasis. "If I hear about him hurting you one more time, I think I'm going to throw up."

"Short answer to that is 'yes, we did'." Sam answered.

XXX

Frank pushed her food around her plate the next morning, "So, Alastair's dead..." she attempted conversationally, unable to actually look at either Sam or Dean. "And Uriel."

"Yes." Dean confirmed.

"I actually kind of liked Uriel until I found out he was not so good." Frank chewed her lip and pushed her plate away. "I was stunned when Anna killed him."

"You ready to go?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Frank left some money on the table as she got up. The boys followed her out to the car after paying for their own meals.

Frank settled into the backseat of the Impala with the next book and began to read as they pulled out onto the highway.

XXX

"I do not like this Dean Smith guy." Frank grumbled, tucking her feet beneath her.

"Yeah, I didn't care much for him either." Dean agreed.

"He's just not you." Frank frowned and went back to her pages.

XXX

"So...Zachariah is kind of creepy, eh?" Frank shivered, "How is there such a thing as a creepy angel?"

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again.

"He's smarmy, but it's pretty clear he's really dangerous too. And the way he keeps harping on about destiny..." she shook her head. "Nothing good will come of it."

XXX

"A Supernatural Convention?" Frank blinked and shook her head.

"Don't remind me." Dean groaned.

"Well, it turned out ok with those guys helping us." Sam pointed out.

"Don't tell me what happens!" Frank gave Sam a pained look.

XXX

Sam's phone rang, "Hello?...Hi Bobby...Tamara, yeah I remember her...where are you?...Seattle, huh? Sure, we can take a case in Wisconsin...well, no, we got sidetracked by a case, so she's still with us...yes, of course we're taking care of her...ok, here she is." Sam handed the phone back to Frank, "It's for you."

"Hi Bobby!" Frank answered the phone.

"Those boys treating you alright?"

"Yes, of course...I mean, Dean won't let me drive...or pay for much, but otherwise it's been fine."

"Tamara told Bobby about a case in Madison, cursed object." Sam was saying to Dean in a quiet voice, "Think we could make a detour before getting her home?"

"Yeah, if it's ok with her." Dean replied.

"I'll talk to you later, ok Bobby?" Frank hung up. "So, we're going to Wisconsin? Did you know that it is the founding state of the Republican Party?"

"Fascinating." Dean deadpanned.

Frank ignored him,"And that the state dance is the polka?"

"So, I'm assuming you don't mind tagging along for a little while longer?" Sam asked.

"Not even slightly."Frank grinned.

XXX

"Are we stopping for food at some point? Or is you plan to let me starve in the back seat?" Frank inquired, holding her place in her book with her finger.

"Next diner we see, we'll stop." Dean promised, "I'm starving too."

"Am I the only one in the car who doesn't have a tapeworm?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean and I are still growing, Sam." Frank said, "Not all of us have reached our full height yet, ok?"

XXX

Frank studied her menu, "Dean, check this out. They serve chocolate pie, a la mode...with a hot fudge-hot caramel drizzle."

"There's a lot of fat in that." Sam observed, examining the salad selection.

"I have to maintain my womanly figure somehow."

XXX

"You know, if we take the I-55 up towards St. Louis we could stop by Cape Girardeau and you could visit Cassie."

"She's not going to want to see me. It's been over 4 years since I saw her last."

"And the last time you saw her before that, it had been how long?" Frank shook her head, "Your argument is specious."

"Ok, you know what? You're gonna have to use smaller words. Not everyone here went to college, ok?"

"I went to university...in Canada, it's different than-"

"Ok! I get it, but small words, ok?"

"Your argument is unsound." she rephrased.

Dean growled.

"Don't growl at me." Frank went back to reading, "I'm unmoved by that argument too."

"Bossy..." Dean grumbled under his breath.

"It's not like it's out of our way." Sam pointed out.

" 'Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never ever the same.' " Frank piped up from the backseat.

"What?"

" 'They celebrate the true essence of who we are...and have faith in all that we may become.' " Frank continued. " 'Some people come into our lives to teach us about love...The love that rests within ourselves.' "

"Flavia Weedn, right?" Sam guessed.

Frank nodded.

"Poetry?" Dean asked in dismay, "Are you serious?"

"I like that poem." Frank defended.

"You want poetry? I've got poetry...'A pirate, history relates'..."

"Dean..."

"...'Was scuffling with some of his mates'," Dean continued, ignoring Sam, " 'When he slipped on a cutlass, which rendered him nut-less and practically useless on dates.' "

Frank bit her lip to keep from giggling.

"Real classy, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Excellent grasp of meter." Frank grinned, "Very impressive."

Dean shot Sam a triumphant smirk.

" 'Be yourself' is the worst advice you can give some people." Sam muttered to himself.

"Nice distraction tactic, by the way, but we're still going to go see Cassie." Frank informed Dean.

"Why?" Dean nearly whined.

"Because I liked her in the book and I want to meet her."

"Why don't I just tell you about her? Hmm?" Dean suggested, "Let's see, she has dark hair..."

"Dean, you have the memory of a demented gold fish when it comes to women!" Sam objected, "Let's just swing by."

XXX

"She could have moved. It's rude to just show up without calling ahead. She might live in a different state, for all I know. I haven't seen her in four years." Dean was still protesting.

"The last time you saw Cassie, her father had just died...she's not going to move out of state and leave her mother all alone." Frank rolled her eyes.

"She could have a boyfriend, she could be married." Dean continued.

"She's your true love and she's not married." Frank decided confidently.

"My true love?" Dean scoffed.

"I liked her." Sam said helpfully.

Dean growled at his brother. "You are not helping."

"Turn here." Sam instructed.

Dean followed Sam's directions. "We're not the same people anymore."

"Stop whining, it's going to be wonderful." Frank sighed, "And romantic."

"I agree with Frank, man." Sam was clearly enjoying this.

"So you've said." Dean grumbled.

"And here we are!" Sam announced as they pulled into the Robinson's driveway.

The trio exited the car, Dean with less enthusiasm than Frank and Sam. Frank handed Dean the They headed up the walkway. Sam clapped a hand on Dean in support.

"Could you please stop manhandling me?" Dean shrugged Sam's hand from his shoulder.

"Touchy." Sam grinned.

They stood at the front door and Frank knocked confidently. They heard movement inside, and just as the door swung open, a large green SUV pulled into the driveway behind the Impala.

"Hello?" Cassie's mother opened the door.

"Hi, Mrs. Robinson? Remember us? Friends of Cassie's from a few years ago?" Sam said.

"They took care of that monster truck problem you were dealing with." Frank reminded her with a smile.

"Yes of course, Sam and Dean Winchester." Mrs Robinson said, opening the door wider.

"We've come to visit Cassie." Sam explained.

"Well, here she is now." Mrs. Robinson gestured to the SUV.

The three turned to see Cassie exiting the front passenger door.

"She's really pretty." Frank blinked as they headed in Cassie's direction, "I mean, know that Chuck always writes that you've got some gorgeous woman hanging off your arm, but she's beautiful."

Dean wasn't really sure what to make of Frank's tone. She wasn't being sarcastic, and it didn't sound like she was jealous. She just sounded casually observant. Dean didn't like it. It was weird.

Cassie had caught sight of them. "Dean?"

"Hey Cassie." Dean finally found his voice.

They all stood in a tableau until the driver's side door opened and a man jumped out. "I'll get the diaper bag."

All eyes snapped towards the dark haired man.

"Why don't you all come inside, I'm sure we have enough for three more." Mrs. Robinson said.

The look on Frank's face was positively comical as she allowed Mrs. Robinson to invite them inside.

"What was that you were saying about her not being married?" Dean said quietly as he gave Frank a sidelong look.

"I'm 26, never had a serious romantic relationship, why are you listening to me when it comes to things like this?" Frank frowned in embarrassed consternation.

Frank and the Winchesters followed Mrs. Robinson into the foyer. They were shortly joined by the dark haired man carrying a blue and brown diaper bag, and Cassie who was holding an infant around a year old.

"Cassie, you remember Sam and Dean." Mrs. Robinson said.

Cassie blinked and shifted the baby in her arms. He was wide-eyed and was sucking intently on his red pacifier.

"Boys, this is Edward Todd, Cassie's husband." Mrs. Robinson continued, when it was apparent no one else was going to provide introductions. "Edward, these are Cassie's school friends who helped catch Cyrus Dorian."

"Wow...I always wanted to thank you guys for what you did." Edward said.

"Wait...Todd, as in Mayor Todd?" Sam said.

"My father." Edward nodded.

"So, Dean," Cassie spoke for the first time since coming into the house, "Who's your friend?"

"We prefer to use the term 'life partner.'"

Frank took Dean's deadpan in stride and stuck out her hand, "Frank Houdin, it's a pleasure to meet you. Dean mentioned he had an old friend in the area, so we thought we'd drop in to say hello. We're on a bit of a roadtrip."

Cassie took in Frank's decidedly non-roadtrip-like attire as they shook hands. Frank had insisted that the white pencil skirt was the coolest piece of clothing she owned and that she had to wear the lavender silk blouse because it 'went well' with the skirt. Dean honestly didn't understand why she didn't just buy a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and call it a day.

"And this is my grandson, Harold." Mrs. Robinson reached out and took the baby from Cassie's arms. "He'll be a year old in less than two weeks now."

"He's adorable." Frank offered.

"Cassie, would you mind helping me set some extra places? I've asked your friends to stay for dinner." Mrs. Robinson said. "You boys make yourselves comfortable in the livingroom. The meal will be ready any minute."

The Winchesters followed Edward into the livingroom. Dean passed Cassie as she headed towards the kitchen. She smelled like baby powder.

Mrs. Robinson took the baby into the kitchen with her.

"So, Dean tells me you're a reporter..." Frank and Cassie walked inside, obviously forgetting the existence of the men.

Sam kept glancing over at Dean, whose expression was surprisingly unreadable. This was going to be a long evening.

XXX

Minutes later, the men were summoned into the diningroom.

Baby Harold was already situated in a highchair near the head of the table by the kitchen door and Mrs. Robinson gestured for everyone to take their seats.

Edward sat beside his son, at the head of the table while Cassie's mother sat at the other end. Cassie sat down on the other side of the highchair and gestured for Frank to sit between the two women. Sam sat across from Frank, on Mrs. Robinson's right, with Dean beside him.

"Well, this is cozy." Dean gave a small smile.

"It' so nice to see you having a family dinner in the middle of the week." Frank said to Mrs. Robinson. "You seem really close."

"We are. Cassie and Edward come over whenever they can." Cassie's mother replied. "I'm glad they decided to stay in town after they got married."

"You would have moved away from your Mom?" Dean frowned at Cassie.

"Well, Edward is a Harvard trained lawyer." Mrs. Robinson answered for her daughter, "He could have gone to the city to get a job with a big firm."

"I like working here in town. Big fish, little pond and all that." Edward shrugged good-naturedly. "Cassie likes it here. We grew up here. It's nice to put down roots in familiar ground. I'm a homebody at heart."

"These boys are free spirits." Frank nodded in the Winchester's direction, "Life is a highway for them."

Dean smiled at her, "We live for the day."

" _Carpe diem._ " Sam tuned in.

"Seize the carbs." Frank agreed with a wink.

"And on that note, everyone help yourself." Mrs. Robinson gestured to the food.

"Isn't this fun?" Frank leaned across the table and snagging a roll from the breadbasket.

Dean raised his eyebrows and said, "Sure," in the way that meant _'I think you're a crazy person.'_

"So how do you know Dean and Sam, Frank?" Cassie asked as she passed a serving dish full of green beans to her husband.

"They're friends of my father's." Frank said, accepting the mashed potatoes from Mrs. Robinson. "He's a hunter too."

"And do you...hunt?" Mrs. Robinson asked.

"No way." Frank smiled, "I am a surgeon. I was recently in Haiti with MSF...fixing things. Or at least, trying."

"MSF?" Mrs. Robinson asked, "What is-"

"Oh, _Médecins Sans Frontières_...which, is french for Doctors Without Borders." Frank nodded, "Medical personnel volunteer their time all over the world. I believe the minimum requirement is 6 months, and you don't choose where you get sent. It's based on the greatest need...and of course, it helps if your second language is relevant in that area. French is my first language anyway, so of course I was able to be of use in Haiti."

"I didn't know french was your first language." Sam said in surprise, "You don't even have a french accent."

"Well, not all biligual francophones sound like former Prime Minister Jean Chrétien." Frank smiled. "I primarily spoke French at home, and also at school, but I had an English tutor...and of course by the time I was in university, I was taking most of my classes in English. McGill is in Montréal, so some of the classes were in French. I believe it's a requirement to be bilingual."

"Bobby speaks Japanese." Sam said anecdotally.

"Bobby speaks Japanese?" Dean looked incredulous.

"Came in handy when you had ghost sickness." Sam nodded.

"Yes, he mentioned that." Frank nodded. "His Latin's pretty strong as well."

"You probably know Latin from medical school." Cassie said as Frank passed the mashed potatoes her way.

"And I grew up Catholic." Frank smiled, "I was going to take Spanish in school, but my grandfather encouraged me to study Mandarin instead. The only thing I know is how to ask to get to the washroom. _Donde esta el baño?"_

"Mandarin?" Edward piped up from the end of the table, "That's a little obscure."

Frank shrugged, "He's a businessman, and does a generous amount of business with the Chinese. He said it's always a pleasant surprise during a deal when you can speak their language."

"You speak any other languages?" Sam joked in disbelief.

"A bit of Punjabi." Frank wrinkled her nose, "But my accent is terrible. I could probably make a business deal, but I'd get lost on the way to the washroom."

"Wow." Dean muttered.

"Dean doesn't like it when I don't speak English." Frank confided to Cassie. "He gets this strange look on his face."

Sam snorted back a laugh.

"That's not true." Dean defended himself.

"It is true. You press your lips together and you start breathing heavily. And your eyes get squinty." Frank served herself a pork chop from the plate in front of her. "And you fidget like you've got ants in your pants."

Dean scowled darkly across the table at her.

"It's fine, I'll speak all the french I want when I get back home."

"Where is home?"Mrs. Robinson asked.

"Montréal." Frank said, "I'm from Canada."

"You mentioned the Prime Minister, I didn't figure you to be from around here." Edward nodded, taking a mouthful of beans.

"Well, enough about me...I've been monopolizing the conversation. Tell me all about yourselves."

"Edward came back to town after his father died, to arrange the funeral. He stuck around for a bit and Cassie and he just fell right back into their old routines. They grew up together and when they went off to college they lost touch." Mrs. Robinson said. "They've be married for 2 years. August 8th, 2008."

Frank glanced over at Dean, who was pushing his beans around his plates. He had still been in Hell in August.

"A year and a bit later, Harold Martin Todd was born." Edward said, "The two happiest days of my life."

Cassie smiled down the table at her husband.

"You guys look really happy." Sam looked back and forth between them.

Frank caught Sam's eye and gave a worried look towards Dean. Sam looked at his brother in concern.

"This meat is excellent, Mrs. Robinson. I generally just serve pork chops with a bit of red pepper jelly, but this is lovely."

"Thank you, I can give you the recipe if you'd like." Mrs. Robinson beamed.

Frank gave one last look at Dean before tucking into her meal.

XXX

Once they had eaten their fill, they retired to the sitting room.

The women were chatting about Frank's trip to Haiti, while the men listened quietly, content to sit in a full-belly stupor.

"There were bodies wrapped in sheets lining the streets because there were to many corpses and not enough able-bodied people to help deal with them." Frank said quietly, "If you think Katrina wreaked havoc on New Orleans, just imagine what the earthquake did to a country that already required a U.N. force presence. Chaos reigned after Katrina, but it was already well-established on the throne in Haiti before any natural disaster came along."

"Even now, it's still a mess down there." Cassie noted. "I wonder how much will change with the elections."

"It certainly will be interesting to keep an eye on." Frank nodded, "I'd like to go back, but of course, there are other places in the world that need our attention. It just seems like there always needs to be some sort of disaster to propel people into helping."

"Not everyone has that sort of social consciousness, though." Cassie pointed out, "You're right about people needing a disaster for people to notice that there is a world outside of their own little bubble."

"I'd like to go north, or even out east, to the native reserves in Canada. Some of the conditions there are as bad as third world countries. It's embarrassing as a Canadian to have that exist. Granted, the gap between the poor and the rich is much smaller than in the States...our wealthy citizens are not as well off as those in America, but our poor are not as poor as people who live here."

"Are you saying that capitalism and democracy in America isn't all it's cracked up to be?" Sam piped up.

"Well, we down really have a democracy in America do we? It's more akin to corporate oligarchy." Edward argued.

"I concur." Frank nodded, "The party line is democracy, but the truth of the matter is, the western world is in a recession thanks mainly to corporate and governmental elitism."

"I think we should be more vigilant about participating in Social Darwinism, and compose our government as a meritocracy." Sam decided.

Frank snorted delicately, "People who say that think that they are the most meritorious and therefore it is a self-serving desire. It's just another oligarchic manifestation."

"Not so, I don't want to work in politics. But I do want the most intelligent leader we can get."

XXX

Mrs. Robinson invited everyone into the livingroom for drinks.

"Oh, we need another glass, Frank would you mind?" Cassie said, looking over to the woman sitting closest to the aforementioned glassware.

"Not at all." Frank said, standing. She reached for a glass from the cupboard.

"How tall are you?" Dean asked.

"5' 1 and 1/2"." Frank replied, rising onto the tips of her toes to grasp the glass.

"5'1"?"

"And a half." Frank added, fingers closing around the cup. "The half is very important. It means I'm almost 5'2"."

"Which is still really short." Dean pointed out.

"Short people live longer." Frank shot back, handing the glass over to Cassie. "Medical fact."

"Really?" Dean's eyebrows raised.

"Our hearts don't have to work as hard pumping all that blood to our extremities."

"Huh, still, really short."

"Not short, fun-sized."

Cassie looked back and forth between Frank and Dean, a small smile forming on her lips.

XXX

Cassie and Frank ascended the stairs to get baby Harold bathed and changed for bed, leaving the men and Mrs. Robinson to nurse their drinks downstairs.

"We should probably hit the road." Dean said, 45 minutes later. Frank and Cassie were still upstairs. What was taking them so long? He was able to get Sammy ready for bed in under half an hour when they were younger. Amateurs. "I'm gonna go get Frank."

Dean mounted the stairs and followed the hallway up to the room where he could hear Frank and Cassie trying to pacify the cranky baby Harold into sleep.

"I just hate putting him down when he's still fussing like this." Cassie tugged a hand through her hair, as Dean leaned on the door.

 _"Allez dormir._ Go to sleep." Frank leaned over the crib, cooing, _"Sommeil, bébé._ Sleep, baby."

"I'm always worried that he's fussy because he's sick."

"No, he's just tired." Frank said, with her authoritative, trust-me-I'm-a-doctor voice. "Do you need a lullaby to sleep, little bug?" She hummed six familiar notes under her breath.

"He's out of luck, I'm a terrible singer." Cassie chuckled, leaning against the crib with Frank.

_"Take a sad song and make it better."_

Dean's heart clenched.

"The Beatles? Really?" Cassie chuckled quietly.

"Anyone can sing Brahms Lullaby. My other go-to song is Stairway to Heaven."" Frank shrugged, _"Remember to let her in to your heart, then you can start to make it better."_

Baby Harold sniffed and hiccuped, quieting.

Frank's voice was clear, but gentle, _"Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better."_

Dean could hear the baby rustle his blanket and give a tiny baby yawn.

"Amazing." Cassie whispered.

 _"And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulders."_ Frank reached into the crib, adjusting the blanket. _"For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder."_ She straightened and turned, starting slightly when she saw Dean. She placed a silencing finger to her lips.

Cassie followed Frank out of the room, and Dean led them down the hall and back downstairs.

"We're heading out now." Dean murmured when they got to the foot of the stairs.

"Nice meeting you Cassie." Frank said, and slipped into the livingroom to join the others, and leave Dean and Cassie alone.

Crossing her arms, Cassie leaned back against the wall. "So, what are you really doing here, Dean?"

"Honestly, I have no idea."

Her eyebrows raised.

"I mentioned I had a friend who lived in the area and Frank insisted we stop by and say hi."

"Well, it's good to see you."

"Yeah." Dean shifted, "I'm glad you seem happy."

"I am happy." Cassie gave a smile, glancing over her shoulder toward her son's room.

"Right, and I'm glad."

"You said that." Cassie looked amused.

"And Eddie...Edward, seems great. Really fantastic. Super."

"Same with Frank."

"Oh, we're not-she's not...uh..." Dean gesticulated.

"Uh huh, right." Cassie cocked her head.

"Listen, as much fun as it would be to run off with her to Canada and become, I dunno, a penguin wrangler, it's not gonna happen."

"Especially since there are no penguins in Canada, unless it's at the zoo." Cassie pointed out.

"I think you're missing the point."

"I doubt it. More like you are missing the point."

"I can't talk to you when you're like this." Dean muttered.

"Right." Cassie couldn't seemed to wipe the amused look off of her face.

Dean decided it was definitely time to leave.

They all said their goodbyes, and Frank promised to keep in touch with her new friend.

"Were you hoping to hook me up with Cassie?" Dean murmured to Frank as they got into the car.

Sam pulled out the map.

"No?" Frank said guiltily.

"Why?"

Frank worried her lower lip, "She made you happy...I mean, until you broke up. But you were happy when you were with her. I just think that you deserve to be happy."

"I was torturing souls in Hell while she was getting married." Dean reminded her.

"So, it never would have worked out anyway?" Frank suggested hopefully, giving him a small apologetic smile.

"I hate you."

And Frank's smile faltered a bit in a way that told Dean that she knew he was just joking, but was still slightly bothered by the possibility of him ever hating her.

"Well, what about Lisa?"

"What about Lisa? Why are you suddenly Little Miss Matchmaker?"

Frank sighed and changed the subject, "How far are we from Wisconsin?"

"Maybe a day and a half drive." Sam replied.

"I'm going to read." Frank picked up her book, Jump the Shark, "Have you talked to Adam...I think I'd like to meet him too."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"What?" Frank looked horrified, "Is anyone you know still alive?"

The brothers remained silent.

"Nevermind," Frank muttered darkly, "I'll find out sooner or later."

XXX

That night they stopped in Oakville, just outside of St. Louis.

The motel room was a strange turquoise colour, with plaid bedding. Frank blinked a few times at the clashing decor, before heading into the bathroom.

After dumping their bags into the room next door, Sam headed back over to Frank's room to hang out.

"Just to forewarn everyone:" Frank announced as she exited the bathroom, "If you don't turn the cold all the way over before turning on the hot water, you will scald yourself in the shower."

"Noted." Sam nodded.

Dean knocked on Frank's door, "Keys." he demanded of Sam, palm held out.

"Where are you going?" Frank asked.

"Out." Dean said curtly as Sam dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them to his brother.

"When will you be back?"

"Later." Dean closed the door after himself.

Frank sat down heavily on the bed with a sigh, "He's mad at me over the Cassie thing, isn't he?"

Sam looked out the window as the Impala roared away. "I don't really think it's that."

Frank laced her fingers together and pressed them over her eyes, resting her elbows on her knees.

"You like him, right?" Sam asked slowly.

"Yes, of course!" Frank said, looking up at him. The thought of Dean is dizzying and Frank is not prepared for it in the slightest. Not exactly the white knight she'd thought she was supposed to dream about.

"So why don't you tell him?"

"I don't want him to feel like he owes me, or that I expect something...because obviously he doesn't. I'm fine that it's kind of one-sided, really. He's wonderful, he's a superhero, for goodness sake!"

Sam groaned, "Don't tell him that, he'll be insufferable!"

Frank shot him an affectionate look, "You know it's true."

Sam didn't deny it, because secretly he agreed with her. "Dean doesn't expect anything from anyone, you know that."

Frank was quiet.

"You should tell him. He should know."

"It would be weird though, right? I mean, after my _menage a trois_ with you and Meg..."

"Never say that again." Sam groaned.

XXX


	7. Wonderwall ~ Oasis

 

"Did you know that it was Captain Hanson Gregory who had the idea to cut out the centre of the doughnut?" Frank said suddenly.

Dean was at the wheel, driving down the highway towards Madison. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"he asked her in the rearview mirror.

"I read." Frank shrugged.

"How about you go back to reading." Dean suggested with a roll of his eyes.

"That's cool, I didn't know that." Sam said as Frank half-heartedly glared at his brother from the backseat.

Frank shifted in her seat and went back to reading.

"Which one are you on, now?" Sam asked.

Frank looked up, "I just finished The Rapture...the one where Castiel is sent back to Heaven and you have to take care of Jimmy Novak. I've just started the second chapter of When the Levee Breaks."

"That's a Zeppelin song. What story is that?" Dean frowned.

"Well, so far you've locked Sam in my father's basement. Demon blood detox. I have to say, it's not working very well, thus far." Frank muttered, flipping a page with a little more force than necessary.

They were just outside of Bloomington, Illinois on I-39 when Dean noticed a 1990's beige Honda Accord on the side of the road with its hazard lights flashing. Sam was looking at the map and hadn't noticed the car, so when Dean started to pull over, Sam asked, "Why're we stopping?"

"Just checkin' something out, Sammy. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Sam just made a face and sat up, folded his map and looked out the window.

Dean pulled the Impala over in front of the Accord and glanced over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a second." He exited the car. He returned a minute later, opening the door to the backseat, "Frank, you'd better come help."

Frank's eyebrows rose and she exchanged a baffled look with Sam. They both got out of the Impala and followed Dean back to the beige montrosity.

"This is Mallory Emerson. She's having a baby." Dean introduced the very pregnant woman in the drivers seat.

"It's too soon!" Mallory whimpered, "My due date's not for another month, it's too soon!"

"It's ok, Mallory. I'm a doctor, I'm here to help you."

"That's always a line when I say that."

Frank glared a Dean over her shoulder. "I'm going to need a pair of scissors, two new shoelaces or lengths of string, a sock, a dropcloth, a plastic bag and two towels." she declared. "And the hand sanitizer from my purse."

"What are you--a female MacGyver?"

"I'll go get the stuff." Sam assured Frank.

"Mallory, my name is Frank, this is Dean. Sam is going to collect the things I need. Let's move you into the back seat where is a little more comfortable. We'll have more room back there."

"Oh man, is this going to change the way I look at-"

"Dean, I advise you not to finish that sentence." Frank said sharply.

"Dr. Frank, I'm really scared. It hurts..."

"I know, Mallory. But trust me, I'm going to help you."

Mallory looked to be no older than 19, with curly auburn hair, big brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Her pale skin was flushed with perspiration. She wore a long sleeved Jersey dress that fell just above the knees.

Dean and Frank helped the young woman into the back seat, having her face out of the car.

When Sam returned, he had a knife, one of Dean's new socks, a tarp from their camping supplies, an empty Walmart bag, the small bottle of hand sanitizer and some dental floss. "We had rope, but no string. And we don't have towels."

"Dental floss will work. I need it to tie off the umbilical cord. I have new hand towels in my bag. Front panel. Better bring one of the big towels as well." Frank accepted the supplies and shooed Sam back to the Impala. "How are you doing, Mallory?"

"Fan-freakin'-tastic, Dr. Frank, ma'am." Mallory gritted out.

Frank helped Mallory slide the tarp beneath her to serve as a drop cloth and once Sam returned with the towel, Frank draped the bigger towel across Mallory's lap. Mallory had the presence of mind not to wear tights on her trip to the hospital and Frank helped the young girl off with her underwear.

Dean looked like he was about to make a comment, but he was silenced by another of Frank's glares and her sharp explanation that wearing underwear while trying to have a baby was not an ideal situation.

Mallory whimpered as she gritted her teeth and rode out another contraction.

"Try to remember to take slow deep breaths, Mallory," Frank advised calmly, "You don't want to start hyperventilating."

"I don't want to have my baby on the side of the road." Mallory sniffled.

"It's going to be a great story to tell them when they grow up. Hey Sam, can you come over here?" Frank summoned the taller Winchester.

"What else can I do?"

"Stand there and look pretty. Mallory's going to try to stay calm. It's good to focus on something, and you're going to smile so she can focus on your dimples." Frank rolled up her sleeves and squirted a copious amount of hand sanitizer onto her palms, rubbing the solution all the way up to her elbows.

"Uh..."

"Smile!" Frank commanded.

"Ok." Sam gave Mallory an uncertain grin.

The next few contractions left Mallory winded and teary-eyed. "Aren't we supposed to be timing the contractions?" she asked Frank.

"You said the baby's early?" Frank confirmed.

Mallory nodded.

"Then it's harder to gauge the contractions. They can be misleading. When it's time to push, you'll know. I'm just going to take a peek and see how things are moving along." Frank gestured to the edge of the towel across Mallory's lap.

Dean, who had been hanging (hiding out) around the trunk of the Impala, had allowed his curiousity to get the better of him, and was heading over to investigate the status of things. He did an about-face as he caught sight of Frank lifting the towel.

"Ok, well, I think the next few contractions you can start to push." Frank declared, "You're dilated enough that I can see the head."

"Oh God!" Dean moaned. Sam's dimples deepened at his brother's obvious discomfort.

Dean's cellphone rang. "Cas? Oh thank God!" he wandered away from the tortured cries to talk to his favourite angel.

"Dean, I have some information that may be useful to you regarding the cursed object in Wisconsin."

"Great, what is it?"

"There is an old text which holds a key in the library there. It's very old. It's also on display. You will have to steal it."

"Ok, well, that's obviously not gonna be a problem."

"We've got shoulders! You're doing great, Mallory!" Dean could hear Frank cheerleading in the background. He cringed and tried to focus on what Castiel was telling him.

"The text has a code which will decipher the curse."

"'The vessel with the pestle has the brew that is true'." Dean retorted.

"Great job Mallory! It's a boy!"

"I don't understand what that means." Cas said patiently through the phone.

"I never really did, either." Dean admitted, "Anyway, thanks Cas."

"Ok, now we've just got to wait for the placenta..." Dean heard Frank say cheerfully over the sound of very small lungs taking their first wailing breaths.

Dean held back when he heard these words. There was something he probably needed to check on in the trunk.

Dean rejoined the trio, which was clearly now a quartet. Sam was looking a little shaken, Frank was covered in...fluid. The infant was wrapped in Frank's towel wearing a sock on his head and Mallory was holding her new son to her chest. Frank was holding a Walmart bag full of something Dean didn't want to think about, looking fairly pleased.

"Alright, we need to get you to the hospital." Frank smiled down at the mother and child. "The doctors there will want to run a few test..."

"Is there something wrong?" Mallory looked up at Frank in panic.

"No, no. It's just good to make sure everything's alright. You have a little bit of tearing, nothing that can't be fixed by a competent doctor." Frank assured, before going onto praise Mallory, "But otherwise, everything went very well. You did a beautiful job, and no one even held your hand. The baby has a satisfactory initial Apgar score but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"You are not even speaking English anymore." Dean declared.

XXX

The nearest hospital turned out to be rather close. Dean turned the Impala onto Empire Street and headed for the Children's Hospital. After much cajoling, Frank convinced Dean to let Mallory and her baby into his car, leaving her Accord on the side of the road.

"We're very fortunate. This hospital has an excellent reputation for neonatal care. It had one of the first NICUs in the world. You'll both be very well taken care of." Frank was saying as she helped Mallory into the Emergency Room entrance.

Frank took care of the paperwork with Mallory's insurance as an orderly took Mallory to her room and a nurse took the new baby to NICU. Sam collected Frank's bag from the trunk of the Impala for her to change into fresh clothes while Dean went in search of food.

Once Frank had freshened up, and Dean was fed, the three of them reconvened outside of Mallory's room.

"We should probably get back on the road." Dean reminded, "We still have that cursed object to deal with."

"You're right, I'd just like to check on Mallory before we leave. She is technically my patient." Frank straightened her cream coloured blouse and pushed into Mallory's room. The Winchesters followed her in.

Mallory was resting in her hospital bed.

"We've got to go, Mallory." Frank said gently. "Is there anything else you need me to do before we leave?"

'No, thank you. You've already done so much. You really saved us." Mallory said emphatically, "I don't know how I can thank you enough."

"I did what anyone would have done." Frank downplayed, tucking a loose strand of hair into her chignon. "Have you decided on a name?"

"I'm going to name him Frank Edward Emerson. After you." Mallory smiled back. "You're like my guardian angel."

"He's going to have to grow up to be a lawyer, or something with a name like that." Frank smiled with embarrassment. "Is Edward a family name?"

"No, I'm a huge Twilight fan."

Frank's smiled froze, "Of course."

"Robert Pattinson is so hot."

"Yes, and that's exactly the sort of thing you want to think about when you're looking at your infant son."

Sam choked back a snicker, and Dean squinted to keep from the impulse to roll his eyes.

"It was lovely to meet you, Mallory." Frank squeezed the young woman's hand, _" 'Throughout our lives we are sent precious souls...meant to share our journey however brief or lasting their stay they remind us why we are here. They help us to see that everything on earth is part of the incredibility of life...and that it is always there for us to take of its joy.' "_

"Happy trails to you, too." Mallory grinned.

XXX

Frank was quiet as she curled up in the backseat of the Impala with her book. She flipped the page and continued to read about Sam's hallucinations with a grim expression across her features. Her frown deepened as Castiel appeared in the story and manipulated Dean into swearing fealty to the angels. She turned over the limited options that they were faced with in her head.

"Your lives suck." She concluded morosely, not expecting any response. The Winchesters had none to give.

By the time Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of their motel, Frank had worried her lip to the point of being sore and swollen. It had been a rough read. Not only did she find out the story behind Lucifer's Fall, she had disturbing images of a baby-eating Lilith to contend with, and the heart-wrenching split of the Winchester's relationship over Ruby.

She picked up the next book, entitled _Lucifer Rising_. Well, that doesn't bode well, she thought morbidly to herself.

"Hey, don't you want to eat?" Dean offered the carton of Schezwan chicken to her.

"I can't talk to you, or especially you," she gestured towards Sam with her book, "...until something good happens in the story. You aren't even talking to each other right now. And Sam's off with Ruby..." Frank could feel the hysteria rising in her chest. "I'm not hungry."

"Fair enough." Dean said, remembering that grim chapter of their history. He hadn't felt much like eating either. _Drinking, yes. Eating, not so much._

XXX

"Oh, thank God for Bobby!" Frank exclaimed.

Dean looked up in surprise.

"Is she talking to us again?" Sam stage whispered.

"I'm talking to Dean...he hasn't given up on you. You're still with Ruby, so I'm not talking to you yet." Frank snapped.

"How obvious is it that she's Bobby's daughter, huh?" Dean said gleefully.

XXX

"What the _hell_ is Zachariah doing pimping out Ginger and Mary-ann?" Frank looked up from her book with a thoroughly disturbed expression.

"Uh..."

"Never mind, I'll just read..."

Frank grumbled a few moments later, "I can't decide whether Zachariah's just the most gigantic ass, or if he's a gigantic ass with a plan. Either way, I really don't care for him."

"He's an ass with a plan." Sam said.

"Still not talking to you." Frank reminded him.

"Right, sorry."

XXX

Frank was alternating between giving Dean dewy-eyed looks for his forgiveness phone call from the Green Room, and shooting Sam looks that were near lethal for the torture that he was enacting on the demon nurse.

She had gone into the bathroom to press a cool damp cloth to her forehead. She wanted to throw up. She hated Ruby. And she currently wasn't very fond of Sam either.

She padded back into the main room.

The boys were low on cash again and Dean had made the executive decision to save by getting one room with two Queen sized beds. Frank really didn't care, there was plenty of room for two people in the Queen, but she knew for certain that there was no way she'd be sharing with Sam. She could hardly stand to be in the same room with him, much less the same bed.

She returned to her book and felt the disgust curling more violently in her stomach as she read the conversation between Ruby and Sam. However, she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her when Zachariah explained that he actually wanted the Apocalypse to happen...and that God had left the proverbial building.

 _Just keep reading,_ she told herself firmly. _It has to get better._

But not before it got worse.

First, Castiel was going off about destiny and God's will, while Dean was screaming back just as loud his refusal to roll over and take it.

And then Ruby was pressuring Sam to suck the RN's blood. Sam checked his message from Dean, only to hear a message that Dean had not left.

"Was it Zachariah, or Ruby?" Frank asked suddenly.

"Was who what?" Sam frowned.

"That message you heard form Dean in Illchester, that wasn't actually Dean...was it Zachariah who manipulated the message, or was it Ruby?" Frank demanded.

"I'm not sure." Sam admitted, "It could have been either of them."

Frank rolled her eyes and continued to read. While Sam was bleeding the nurse, Dean was pacing around the Green Room like a caged animal. Frank gasped as Castiel appeared and started fingerpainting with his own blood, sending Zachariah into oblivion, and announcing that Lilith was the Final Seal.

 _"Tabernac!"_ Frank spat in frustration, "Angels and their secrets!"

"Which secret are you talking about?" Dean inquired.

"Lilith being the Final Seal!" Frank raged. "And Sam's going to kill her thinking that he's stopping her! _Merde!"_

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Those were the days.

Sam started to clean up the garbage from their take-out as Frank finished reading the book.

"Black eyes." Frank whispered in disbelief a little later, "Sam's a demon?"

"What? No!" Sam hurried to explain, "I'm not, it was a one time thing."

Frank looked over at Dean for confirmation. Dean gave a nod.

Not reassured, Frank continued reading.

 _"'Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.'"_ Frank mumbled a short time later.

"Albert Camus." Sam cited, tossing the empty take-out containers into the trash.

Frank nodded, "Ruby knew. She was playing you the entire time...I knew...I mean, I didn't know what her end game was...but this...I never expected..."

"Honestly, neither did we." Dean admitted.

"Ok, I've got 3 more pages, I'm almost done..." Frank tucked back into the book.

Moments later there was a gasp from her direction and a strange wiggling dance in her seat.

"What was that?" Dean snorted.

"Celebrating Ruby's about-freaking-timely death." Frank chirped, "I'm going to read it again, I want to savour it."

"Savour it?" Sam questioned.

"Don't judge...there's nothing in that body besides demon. So I didn't even have to mourn the death of an innocent, because it was 100% Rubicide."

"New word?"

"Just made it up." Frank re-read the Ruby death scene. "Just as good the second time." she sighed happily.

"Ok, you're freaking me out a little." Dean admitted.

"Oh please, you totally were doing a happy dance in your head when it happened." Frank rolled her eyes. "One more page to go, so shush!"

Dean went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Moments later, Frank silently set the book down on the bedside table. Sam looked up when he heard her quiet sniffle.

"Are you alright?" he jumped to his feet in concern.

Frank looked up at Sam with incredulous tear-filled eyes, "Lucifer...when he-you must have been so scared..."

Sam gave a small sigh, remembering the bright light of Hell shooting up from the floor of the chapel.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean had finished up in the bathroom and returned to find Frank trembling and crying on the bed, while Sam stood frozen in reminiscence.

Frank waved a hand, "No, everything's fine. Everyone's good. I'm just getting caught up in the story and keep forgetting that Lucifer isn't strolling around anymore...which, you know, thank you for that, by the way..." she snuffled and searched the room for a facial tissue; finding none, she shrugged and wiped away her tears with her fingers.

"Why are you so nice to us?" Sam asked, shaken from his reverie.

"Because you saved the world." Frank mumbled, blinking through her tear spiked lashes.

"We brought on the Apocalypse."Dean pointed out, giving Sam a glance.

"And then you fixed it." Frank said distractedly, getting to her feet and going into the bathroom to splash water on her grabbed her pajamas from her luggage on the way in. When she returned, Dean was standing by the bed with a furrowed brow. "Are you ok?"

"I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked anxiously.

"I'm just tired, It's been a long day." Frank nodded, climbing into bed.

Sam gave her one last worried look before shedding his extra layers and getting under the covers of his own bed.

"Dean? Are you coming to bed?" Frank asked, fluffing her pillow and snuggling down under the blanket.

Dean and Sam exchanged concerned looks before Dean crawled under the covers.

XXX

It was well after midnight when Dean woke to the snuffling sounds of Frank's restless dreaming. His eyes adjusted to the light(or lack thereof) and he peered over at her pinched expression.

With a piercing shriek of "NO!" Frank sat bolt upright in bed, gasping as though she'd just run a marathon without any training. Her shoulders shuddered convulsively and she flinched when Dean sat up beside her, his left hand slipping around her waist, pulling her into his chest, while his right hand rested on her bent knees. Frank felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she tried not to hyperventilate. Dean pressed small, calming, chaste kisses into her hair and across her temple with such tenderness that Frank thought her heart was going to swell until it burst.

Sam had also been shaken from sleep from her shout; he sat up groggily and the room was soon bathed in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. "What's wrong?" his voice was rough with sleep.

"Nightmare." Dean replied for Frank, whose eyes were shut tight as she concentrated on getting her breathing back to normal. Dean's strong heartbeat against her smaller body was helping immensely. "I hate the Apocalypse." Frank mumbled into his chest.

Dean huffed a laugh and petted her hair. "Try to get some sleep."

Frank nodded and they all lay back turned off the light and Dean allowed himself to slip back into sleep with Frank curled towards him, her hand resting gently over his heart.

XXX

The next morning they were back on the road again. Dean had stolen a pillow from the motel room and ordered Frank to nap in the back seat as he drove. He even shed his jacket and draped it over her curled up body when she started to doze off.

When they arrived in Madison, Wisconsin, Frank blinked at the afternoon sun as she poked her head from beneath the collar of the heavy coat, inhaling the heady scent of leather.

Frank dug into the cardboard box that was filled with Chuck's books and pulled the next book from the series onto her lap. She kept Dean's coat tucked around her and began to read.

XXX

Frank was giggling in the back seat.

"What's so funny?"

"Chuck's description of himself. 'Devastatingly gorgeous' and apparently Sam's a little jealous of Chuck's 'raw animal magnetism.'" Frank was reading _Sympathy for the Devil._

Sam snorted, "Right."

XXX

"So Castiel exploded...but now he's ok?"

"Yes."

"Ok then."

"How is that something you just accept?"

"Faith and such."

"Right, I forgot."

XXX

"Ok, I'm really not a fan of Zachariah." Frank made a face. "He really is getting on my nerves. Do either of you punch him in the face at some point? That would make me a little happy."

Dean smirked.

XXX

"So, this is how you met Becky?" Frank waved the book, "She came to your hotel room to tell you about the Michael Sword?"

"Rambled about a castle made of dogs. As if we needed to think she was more crazy than she already appeared." Dean snorted.

"Actually, it was a castle on a hill made of 42 dogs. It's probably an address or something, right? The bible's full of seemingly nonsensical poetry like that. Are we stopping for food at some point?" Frank looked out the window for restaurant signage.

"We just had breakfast." Sam pointed out.

"150 miles ago. I'm hungry again. Car rides give me an appetite."

"Woman after my own heart." Dean took the next turn off. "Biggerson's ok?"

"We only got free food for a year there...not life, Dean."

"I like their food." he shrugged.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, but next time I get to pick the restaurant."

"No way," Dean made a face, "We'll wind up at a salad bar, or eating sushi...I like my fish deep-fried."

"You like everything deep fried." Frank pointed out.

"So true."

XXX

"What the Hell is wrong with Bobby? I can't believe he said those things. Sam...I'm sure he didn't mean what he said about losing his number. Ok, yes, you were largely responsible for starting the Apocalypse...people make mistakes...I just hope he apologized to you...I'll make him apologize if he hasn't."

They were back on the road again, after a filling meal at Biggerson's.

"Uh..."

"Wait...is he possessed? He is, isn't he?...no, don't tell me!" Frank dove back into the book.

XXX

"Meg came back and a possessed Bobby stabbed himself?" Frank said weakly, her normally pale skin was now completely white. "I feel sick."

"It gets better." Sam said helpfully.

"Well, Meg obviously didn't die."

"And neither did Bobby...so we considered that a win." Dean argued.

"Fair enough." Frank conceded, "Also, I was right about Becky's cryptic message being an address."

"Good for you."

XXX

"Forget what I said about Zachariah. I want to punch him myself. I want to punch an angel." Frank gave a slightly hysterical laugh, "I'm going crazy."

"You're not. Zachariah was a dick." Dean said firmly.

"First he tells you that you're Michael's vessel and then he proceeds to torture you and Sam to get you to accept...just what is wrong with him? Didn't he get the memo about free will? It's a good thing that Castiel showed up. I knew God must have fixed him." Frank turned back to her book, "I'm starting to like this one better now."

XXX

"Lucifer found a vessel? LUCIFER FOUND A VESSEL?"

"Pipe down back there!" Dean glared into the rearview mirror, "We know."

"Remember, you know the punchline, we stopped the Apocalypse." Sam said gently.

"Of course, I know...just...Lucifer was walking around in this poor guy's body. And this guy is now probably dead. I don't like this book anymore." Frank said with a little bit of sulk in her voice.

"You're almost done."

Frank grumpily went back to reading. Minutes later she was finished the last chapter. "Bobby's in the hospital and apologized to Sam..." she caught Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror, "But you told Sam you don't trust him anymore...which has a tiny speck of merit."

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed.

"Don't 'hey' me, you were the one who chose Ruby over Dean."

"I said I was sorry." Sam grumbled.

"Which I'm sure made everything better." Frank rolled her eyes.

XXX

"Bobby was paralyzed? But, obviously he isn't now...so...no, don't tell me!"

"Aren't you finished yet?"

"This is the next book...last one said that Bobby was in the hospital, this one he's paralyzed. Oh, and I'd really like to see those X-Rays you had done, if you still have them." she said to Dean, "The Enochian writing on your ribs would be interesting to take a look at."

"It's not something I keep in the trunk of the Impala."

"But you did keep it, didn't you?"

Sam looked to his brother for his answer.

"I put it in a storage facility."

"Really?" Sam was surprised.

"What? If you had a picture of the markings Cas carved on your ribs, you'd keep it too."

"Are we eating dinner at some point?" Frank interupted, "I get cranky when I go without food."

"She's like a female version of you." Sam joked to Dean.

"And that's a bad thing?" Dean grinned.

Frank flipped open her cellphone...and then closed it, having tuned out their banter.

"Frank, what's up?"

"Castiel couldn't heal Bobby...and he was so angry and confused and sad and I just wanted to...say...I don't know, something..."

"He's fine now." Dean reassured her.

She nodded, looking troubled. "Right, of course."

"So, Biggerson's?" Dean suggested.

"No!" Sam moaned.

"Sure, whatever's fine with me. I'm not really hungry anymore." Frank stared at her phone and chewed on her bottom lip. She picked up her book and continued to read.

XXX

Frank looked over at Dean, "You were so mean to Castiel!" she glared, clearly she had moved on from moping over Bobby's temporary paralysis.

"What? When?" Dean looked startled at her ferocious expression.

"He just wanted to find God, and instead of being supportive, you told him that God was dead, or didn't care! What is wrong with you?"

"It seemed like a dumb plan!" Dean said defensively. "And I gave him my amulet."

Sam wisely kept his mouth shut.

"That's it, I officially don't like you very much right now." She crossed her arms, "You hurt his feelings!"

"Angels don't have feelings." Dean explained slowly.

"Of course they do! How can they worship God if they don't have feelings? How can they betray other angels if they don't have feelings?" Frank huffed," Castiel killed other angels because he felt a sense of loyalty to you and Sam. Of course he has feelings."

"Fine, fine!" Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Cas has feelings."

They sat and stared at each other awkwardly for another few moments in the rearview mirror.

Frank flushed and sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. But you were mean to him. Although, he seems to have forgiven you, so I guess I can't really be all that offended. I'm just cranky because I'm tired. And I miss Bobby." she said a little wistfully.

"You could call him." Dean suggested, "I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

XXX

After a quick chat with Bobby on her cellphone, Frank went back to her book, "Ellen's in this story. I like her." she settled back into the seat happily. "She's the female version of Bobby in her level of coolness."

Dean looked at her in the rearview mirror and marveled at how easily her moods could change. She caught him staring and gave a half-hearted glare. Dean grinned and turned his full attention back to the road. He knew she'd forgive him about that whole 'Cas has no feelings' nonsense.

Frank chuckled to herself when she read about Ellen slapping Dean, and stole another look up at the front seat.

XXXXX

"'And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star is called Wormwood. And many men died'." Frank read Dean's words from her book a little later.

"That's in Revelations." Dean said.

Frank nodded, "Chapter 8 verse 10."

"That was one of the Apocalyptic omens." Sam said, "War, wasn't it?"

"With that sweet cherry red Mustang." Dean nodded.

"You knew exactly where to look." Frank said, and Sam thought he detected a small note of awe in the woman's voice.

"I am not just a pretty face, sweetheart." Dean grinned.

Frank worried her lip and went back to reading. She had known that War walked the earth in a metaphorical way, though it did not come as much of a surprise that it wasn't just a metaphor. And War really did have a point about humans not needing much of a push when it came to killing each other. "Does that mean that along with Death and War; Pestilence and Famine are walking around on earth?" Frank asked with a frown.

"Unfortunately, yes." Sam admitted.

"Oh, fantastic."

XXX

"Cutting off fingers? Geez!" Frank wrinkled her nose.

"Well, it's nice work if you can get it." Dean quipped.

"Are we stopping for food at some point? I'm hungry."

"Soon. Finish your book."

XXX

"What is wrong with you?" Frank looked at the brothers as she closed her book, "you can't break up the dream team-Sam can't stop hunting-Dean, I can't believe you let him! Seriously? Both of you-seriously?"

"Uh..." Sam articulated.

"You became a busboy? And left Dean to fight on his own?"

"I can take care of myself!" Dean protested.

"You took Castiel with you." Frank pointed out.

"He pulled me onto a hunt for Raphael, if I remember correctly."

"Semantics." Frank waved her book dismissively. "Oh, and then the first thing you can think of to do is ...and I'm using Castiel's phrase here, take him to a 'den of iniquity'? You tried to deflower an angel?"

"You gotta admit it was pretty funny." Dean chuckled at the memory.

"Cas traumatized that poor girl." Frank said sternly.

Dean snickered.

"And then you poked the angry bear that is the archangel Raphael-splitting up was such a good idea." Frank rolled her eyes. "I mean...maybe you can be a bad influence on Sam...but Castiel seems to be a terrible influence on you."

"Well..."

"Are we there yet?"

XXXX

"You just left him on the side of the road?" Frank looked up from her book in dismay.

"Who?"

"Dean just left Castiel standing at the side of some random highway while he slept."

"When?"

Frank showed them the cover of _The End._

"I don't remember what happens in that one."

Frank had already gone back to reading, "Uh oh...Zachariah just showed up...and apparently took you to the future."

"Oh, that one." Dean nodded, "Yeah, that wasn't so fun."

XXX

Frank snapped her book shut.

"Finished already?"

"I'm really glad that this was not how things ended up." she sighed, "Castiel should not ever have orgies. Ever. Evereverever. Or get high."

"Yeah, that really weirded me out." Dean admitted.

"And Future-you was...really not...I like regular-you much better." Frank fumbled.

Dean said nothing, but couldn't cover the smile that resulted.

"And I'm glad that you and Sam reconciled."

Dean looked over at his brother, "Yeah, me too."

XXXX

Frank discussed _Changing Channels_ over dinner with the Winchesters. "I knew there was something off with that trickster! I can't believe he was an angel...so did not see that coming! And _Gabriel?_ That's just...oh my...wow. He's pretty much my favourite angel since I was a little girl."

XXXX

While on the road again, Frank's phone rang. She fished around in her purse to locate the cell and answered, "Hello?"

Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"Steph! It's been ages, how are you?" she said happily, "We're on our way to Wisconsin."

Dean listened to Frank chatting happily to her friend and looked at her in the rearview mirror when she hung up. "Who's Steph?"

"My best friend...lives in Canada. She was helpful in getting me to look for Bobby." Frank smiled fondly.

"Why didn't you tell her that you weren't at Bobby's anymore?" Sam asked curiously.

"Partially because she wouldn't like the idea of me riding around the continental U.S. with a couple of strangers and partially because I didn't have enough privacy to go into the really juicy gossip with her." Frank admitted sweetly.

"Juicy gossip?" Dean asked with a salacious look on his face.

Frank blushed, "She'd hate you both anyway--and I don't have the energy to defend your questionable character at the moment."

XXXX

They finally made it to Madison, Wisconsin.

"That sounds deliciously cryptic." Frank rubbed her hands together in excitement as Sam translated the text that detailed the cursed object they were pretty sure was in Madison at the local museum.

"Well, as delicious as it is, it would be better if they didn't use this flowery poetry shit, and just said what they wanted to say in plain American." Dean griped, shooting Frank a sidelong look which indicated how much she weirded him out.

"Well, the original text is actually in Ancient Greek." Sam pointed out, gesturing to the old tome.

"Well then they should have just said it in plain Ancient Greek." Dean groused.

Frank snorted delicately.

XXXX

The plan was to sneak into the museum after hours to do the job. Between Sam and Frank, they figured it to be the Necklace of Harmonia. It was purported to allow any woman wearing it to remain eternally young and beautiful.

"I don't see how that's a curse." Dean argued.

"Well, it also brings great misfortune to all of its wearers or owners." Frank said.

"The lore details it being made by Hephaestus and given to Harmonia, the daughter of Aphrodite and Ares, as a curse on the House of Thebes for Aphrodite's infidelity."

"Wait...the daughter got cursed because her Mom slept around?" Dean frowned, "Bummer."

"The sins of the father...that sort of thing." Frank nodded in agreement.

"So when do we go?" Sam asked expectantly, looking at Frank.

"No. No, nononono." Frank shook her head empathetically. "No, I cannot come with you."

"Oh, come on, you can be, like, Nancy Drew." Dean cajoled.

"What? To your Hardy Boys? Not happening. Unlike you two, I have a clean record. Plus I'm Canadian. I don't really relish the idea of being thrown in some American prison if we get caught. They execute people here, you know."

"We're in Wisconsin, they don't use capital punishment here." Sam said.

"Still not interested in getting caught." Frank raised a finger to emphasize her point. "Besides, you'll need someone on the outside to bail your sorry butts out when you do get caught."

"First of all, we won't get caught. Second of all, if we do get caught, we'll just escape."

XXX

"Ok, so who's got a plan?"

"Sam's plans are always very wordy."

"And Dean's always involve adrenaline."

XXX

"I can't believe I'm participating in a Break and Enter."

"We're not breaking, just entering."

"Just because you didn't kick in the door doesn't make this any more legal. We're going to go to jail!"

"Could you keep it down-or we really will get caught."

Frank clamped both hands over her mouth and followed them inside.

Creeping along, they made their way to the Ancient Greece exhibit.

"I wish we had come in the daytime so I could actually enjoy this." Frank lamented in a whisper.

"I found it." Sam gestured the other two over to a case.

"It's locked, how do we open it? Are there lasers and things on this?" Frank asked.

Dean took the butt of his gun and smashed it through the case. "It's unlocked."

Alarms sounded almost immediately. Sam glared at Dean.

"Take the keys, take the Impala, and go." Dean said urgently, pressing the keys into Frank's hand, "We'll figure something out."

Frank accepted the keys and shot the Winchesters a worried look. Then she turned and slipped out the back door.

The sound of the police sirens drew closer.

Dean sighed and looked over at Sam. "It's been a while since I've been in cuffs."

XXXX

Frank spent a total of five minutes sitting on the bed in the motel room they had rented to formulate her plan. She picked up her cellphone and called Castiel.

"I'm going to need your help. Do you still have the FBI badge that Dean made for you in Maine?"

XXX

"We'll be fine. Just let me do the talking." Frank said as she pulled the Impala around the corner of the police station. She parked and exited the car and began striding down the sidewalk.

"Are you sure this is the best course of action?"

"No, but I don't have any other ideas."

XXX

"Special Agent Inarra Serra, F.B.I.,"she flashed her badge, "this is Special Agent Mal Reynolds, we're here about the Museum break-in."

Castiel expertly flashed his badge. It was upside right and everything.

The police officer at the front desk nodded, "Was wonderin' when the Feds'd get here." he smoothed his moustache.

"We were in the area working a case, that's classified, mind you..." she inclined her head, "I understand that you have the Winchesters in your custody."

"Darn tootin'. Caught 'em red handed, too."

"You don't say?" Frank rocked back on her heels, "Well, the Bureau thanks you. We're here to take them into our custody."

"Well, I don't know about that..."

"If you have any questions, I think you'd best talk with our supervisor, Mike Keyser." Frank handed over a business card. "And I'll need that back, it's my last one..."

XXXX

Frank and Cas managed to get the Winchesters released into their custody with little more than a wink and a smile.

The detective handed over his card, "Let me know if you find anything. My home phone number's on the back, so's my cell."

"My partner's the one who collects phone numbers, so I'll give it to him." Frank tucked the card into her pocket and followed the cuffed brothers and her angelic partner out of the police station.

Cas left them with the Impala with a vague caution to be more careful. The three humans climbed into the car.

"I'm really impressed, Frank." Dean said from the driver's seat,"You've got some serious balls impersonating FBI with Cas."

"I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that amateurs built the ark, while professionals built the Titanic." Frank murmured from behind her book, looking more than a little pleased with herself.

XXXX

Dean had taken to spooning Frank possessively as they slept. Not that Frank really minded. There was something about having her back pressed against a solidly built man that she wouldn't trade for a lot of things.

It bothered Dean, however.

Whenever he woke up and found himself wound around the petite brunette he would attempt to extricate himself before she could wake up. He was struggling against this instinctual determination that he'd apparently subconsciously arrived at that Frank was somehow his.

Not even Sam could truly be considered Dean's. Sure, Sam was Dean's responsibility, but that was a brother thing. That was about family.

And the Impala. Well...she was his baby.

No woman came even slightly close to being his. Not Cassie, not Lisa. Not like this.

It was freaking Dean out.

XXXX

_Frank ran backwards, sobbing and shooting. Scrambling away with short, terrified breaths, she herded the Haitian patients towards the back of the room, towards the back exit of their pathetic little makeshift hospital. Frank scrubbed a hand over her face and steadied the gun, aiming at the front line and firing again. Nothing helped. Nothing was stopping the reanimated corpses that were advancing upon the huddled group._

_"What are we going to do?" Dr. Gwen Fletcher screamed._

_"Run!" Frank shrieked back at her._

XXX

"Run!" Frank bolted awake in bed.

Dean was on his feet in a second, "What? What's wrong?"

"Just another nightmare." Frank mumbled as she shook off the last vestiges of her dream.

"Are you ok? Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm good now." Frank spared Sam a glance, "And I'd prefer not to talk about it."

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

Frank worried her lip as she watched them come to a decision. She prayed under her breath that they would let it go.

In synchronization, the WInchesters looked back at her.

"You ok to go back to sleep now?" Dean asked, finally.

Frank let out the breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and gave a short nod. "Yes."

XXXX

When they awoke Friday morning, Frank's nightmare was not mentioned. Frank was grateful and spent the morning reading _Abandon All Hope,_ while Dean was out getting supplies. Sam sat at the table surfing for jobs on his laptop while she made herself comfortable on the bed. She found the Crowley character to be intriguing for a demon and regarded his motivations for giving the Winchesters the Colt with bemused suspicion.

Frank enjoyed reading about Castiel's interaction with the Harvelle's as the Winchester's narrowed in on Satan's location in Carthage. She felt a little thrill on Jo's behalf when Dean attempted his last-night-on-earth speech and sighed in relief when Jo opted for her idea of self-respect.

She swallowed in fear as she read about Castiel spotting the reapers before disappearing from the Harvelle's side and happening upon Lucifer. Her skin crawled at Lucifer's examination of Castiel, as though he were an insect under a microscope.

"Castiel is nothing like Lucifer!" Frank was appalled at the Devil's summation.

Sam looked over from his laptop, "Who said he was?"

"Lucifer." Frank ground out, "He said that once he was gone, Castiel would be next on the heavenly hit-list. Castiel rebelled against the corrupt angelic hierarchy, Lucifer rebelled against God...it's completely different!"

Sam refrained from pointing out that it was just a book, but thought better of it when he admitted that there was nothing in the novels that was untrue.

When Sam didn't offer any sort of verbal confirmation, Frank went back to reading. She felt her blood run cold as she read about Meg letting Hellhounds loose on the Winchesters and Harvelles. She let out a whimper as Jo was attacked and they all ran for cover in the hardware store. The frenzy of the writing had Frank gripping the pages tightly. _Salt the windows and doors, keep pressure on the wounds, pray,_ Frank mentally suggested as her eyes raced over the tale. Frank clenched her jaw as she wondered how they were all going to get out of this mess.

She felt herself calm slightly at the appearance of Bobby on the other side of the ham radio. _Bobby will make it better._

But Dean's words were not so reassuring, _'It's Jo, Bobby. It's pretty bad.'_

Frank's eyes flickered over to Sam, who was watching her intently as she read. She wasn't going to ask him whether or not Jo made it. She was pretty sure she knew.

Frank trained her eyes back on the page, only to be thoroughly disturbed by Meg's interaction with Lucifer. Moments later, she found herself even more horrified by Jo's suggestion of martyrdom by Hellhound/home-made bomb. Sure, the Winchesters threw themselves on the proverbial grenade all the time, but this was somehow different. Jo was just a kid and her _Mom_ was sitting right there next to her. Frank felt her heart ache for Ellen.

Dean's bittersweet goodbye kiss to Jo was the most brutally gentle piece of writing that Chuck had produced in the series, but Ellen's commitment to stay with her daughter until the end was no less heart-wrenching.

Frank felt her breath steal away at the explosion and the bed dipped beside her as Sam folded her into his arms.

They stayed like that until Dean came back to the motel room. His eyebrows shot up in question when he saw them, "Uh, should I...?"

Frank extracted herself from Sam's arms and went over to Dean. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly in a hug. "Ellen and Jo." she mumbled into his chest.

Dean stilled, taking in the book on the bed, and sighed, wrapping his arms around Frank.

Frank pulled away from Dean and picked the novel up with determination. "It's almost over." She retrieved a bottle of beer from the fridge and handed it to Dean before sitting down at the table.

Sam remained on the bed and grabbed the remote for the television, flicking through the channels and settling on reruns of The Andy Griffith Show, turning the volume down low.

Dean reclined on the other bed, relaxing into the pillow.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Frank exclaimed a short time later.

Dean choked on his beer.

Sam let out a surprised snicker, "What?"

"The Colt didn't kill Lucifer!"

"Oh." Sam nodded, "Yeah, no..."

 _"Tabernac!_ I hope you kill him...soon. And I hope he suffers." Frank growled into the book.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"Castiel: For the Win!" Frank crowed moments later, jumping up from her seat. "Take that Meg!"

Sam and Dean grinned in agreement.

Next, Frank breezed through The Song Remains the Same, making enthusiastic comments about Mary and John Winchester, disparaging comments about Anna, and managed to restrain herself from saying anything positive about Michael to the Winchesters' faces. Secretly, though, she thought Michael was awesome-his desire to use Dean as his meat suit aside.

"Your Mom is the coolest ever." Frank declared when she set the book down, "I love reading about her, she's so kick-ass."

Dean made a sound in agreement.

"And Castiel? Probably one of the coolest angels out there."

"Well, he's certainly one of the least douchey angels that we know." Dean admitted.

Frank glared at him and debated singing Michael's praises, before deciding it wasn't worth the headache.

"Who's interested in lunch?" Sam suggested, seeing the tension between his brother and Frank.

XXX

The crankiness continued, much to Sam's dismay, after they had eaten at the local diner.

"You died, again?" Frank was mortified, looking up from _Dark Side of the Moon_ ,"Do you two ever catch a break?"

"Rarely." Dean admitted.

"And why are you so surprised that you made it to Heaven?" Frank looked at them both.

Sam quirked a small smile, "I don't have this on perfect authority, but I'm pretty sure you don't get to Heaven just by giving it the old college try."

"Funny." Frank rolled her eyes. "It's about time you started looking for God though, I have to say."

Sometimes she held herself with such an air of imperiousness that Dean felt surprised by her ego. "What can we say? We've always been a few beans short of a whole enchilada."

Sam had no words for the current conversation.


	8. Father and Son ~ Cat Stevens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I belatedly realized that Bobby still doesn't have his soul back, because Crowley is a slippery sucker. I had pretty much planned on discounting all of season 6 and most of 7...but I don't want Bobby to go to Hell, plus I rather enjoy Sheriff Jody Mills...so least you may consider most of Weekend at Bobby's as part of this storyline's canon. I'm a little nervous about how the integration with the episode turned out--so any feedback is welcome!
> 
> …also, I know pretty much nothing about child custody, which comes up later in the chapter…especially in the American legal system…so just pretend I know what I'm talking about…as this IS fiction.
> 
> As you were.

 

  
XXX

Bobby trudged down the steps into his basement after putting Marcy's peach cobbler into his fridge for later.

"Aw, she sounds nice. Are you gonna make sweet love to her before you stab her to death, Bobby? That is your usual thing, right?" the demon teased.

His plans to get his soul back from Crowley had been put on hold once Frank arrived. He didn't exactly relish telling her about his demon deal. He had some idea that she'd take a dim view of that arrangement. However, now that his daughter was off on her Ride-Along with the boys, it was time to get back to his plans.

He lit the blow torch and directed it to the pile of bones, "I want Crowley's name, now!"

The demon's skin smouldered as he lit up the bones. "Okay. Okay!"

He removed the flame.

"MacLeod. Fergus Macleod."

Bobby's eyes narrowed and he twitched the blowtorch at the bones.

"Swear. We call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back."

Bobby's face pinched in disgust, "Macleod's Scottish, Einstein."

"You got what you want. Now send me back--" she saw him reach for the accelerant. "No! We had a deal."

Bobby doused the bones. "Gave it my best effort." he said dryly as he lit the bones up for the final time.

XXX

Bobby spent his Friday afternoon fielding calls from law enforcement checking up on various hunters and backing them up...as well as dispensing advice to said hunters who were in a bind. Especially idiots like Garth. _How that boy is still alive, I'll never know._

Then Rufus showed up on the run from the law with a body to bury. _What the hell was an Okami doing outside of Japan, let alone in Billings?_

Rufus offered to reach out to contacts he had in Scotland about the lead on Crowley and Bobby was touched, not that he let Rufus know it.

Of course, he was feeling less generous towards that dick when Sheriff Mills showed up later with an FBI agent. He managed to explain the empty hole with a quick excuse about a septic tank explosion, but now he was going to have to strangle Rufus.

XXX

It was late Friday afternoon and Lisa Braeden was driving along the rain slicked roads to pick up her son Ben up from Karate class. She frowned out at the gloomy sky.

The last few months had been hard. 

Ben had been angry at everyone when Sam showed up at their front door back in May and took Dean with him.

They barely had time to adjust during the month Dean had stayed with them. Dean was heartbroken over the loss of his brother. He'd thrown himself into the role of über-perfect family-man after the first few days: taking Ben to Karate class, playing baseball with him at the park, helping him with his homework, giving him PG-rated advice about girls.

Dean found a part-time job as a mechanic in town and took Lisa on dates: they went to see the Iron Man sequel, had an honest-to-God picnic lunch in the park, and took a Fusion cooking class together. The other couple that they met in the class were promptly invited by Dean to come over that weekend for a potluck.

He drank a lot.

Lisa wondered if she should have been worried about that, but frankly, she was more concerned about his weirdly uncharacteristic family-man behaviour. _It was as though he was trying to be Ward Cleaver_. So yeah, Dean drinking at the end of each day concerned her far less than his attempts to be cast in Father Knows Best.

Lisa had invited Dean into her bedroom the night he had shown up at their door. If ever there was a man in need of comfort sex, it was Dean Winchester. He'd made an effort to be with her, but more often than not Lisa could see the grief keeping him from any real pleasure. Her offer was open ended, but Dean made himself comfortable in the guest room. She wondered if Sam hadn't come back if Dean would have moved in to her bedroom eventually.

After he left the money started to show up. Envelopes stuffed full of twenties. No return address, but the hand-writing was familiar enough that she knew who it was coming from. He never sent a note along, just the money. _Child-support._ The summer when Dean had shown up at Ben's 8th birthday party was the only time he'd ever asked about Ben's father. The lie had slid easily off of her tongue at the time. She'd been so shocked to see him. _Should I have told him the truth?_ It's not as though he stuck around, that time, or the time after that. _Still, that's something that should be shared face-to-face._

Lisa sighed and tried to concentrate on the road. The Jeep was hard to handle in this sort of weather and she found herself fighting to keep the vehicle from hydroplaning. The wind kept buffeting angrily against the Jeep from all sides, no true direction to the sheets of water that teamed from the sky.

The roads were all but empty which was just as well because visibility was negligible. _It figures that I'm the only one silly enough to brave the elements on a day like today._ She didn't have much further to go. _Just over the bridge and a few streets over._

She reached for the knob on the dash to turn on the radio. _Maybe Ben and I can get dinner in town while we wait out the storm._ There was a sandwich shop near the Karate school that was pretty good.

It happened so fast that Lisa didn't have much time to think. The road was flooded and the Jeep spun out of her control. She tried desperately to find her equilibrium, but she couldn't even tell what direction she was facing any more. She felt her stomach lurch as the Jeep pitched violently and went into a sort of free fall.

When the Jeep landed, all she could feel was pain.

And that cliché about seeing your life flash before your eyes? _Total lie._

XXXX

Ben was waiting at the Karate studio with his Sensei. It had started to rain and they were both staring out at the storm. All of the other kids had already been picked up from the class. Ryan Humphrey's mom had offered him a ride home, but when Ben had tried to phone his Mom to tell her, her cellphone went straight to voicemail...so here he was, just waiting.

"It's pretty bad out there, isn't it, buddy?" Sensei Andrew frowned at the weather, "I'm sure your Mom will get here soon."

45 minutes later, she still hadn't arrived.

Sensei Andrew decided to drive Ben home, rather than wait any longer. The rain had abated a little and they were able to load into the karate instructor's green Prius without getting too wet.

It was slow going, because the roads were half-flooded. They finally reached the bridge only to be met by flashing police and ambulance lights.

Ben felt as though an invisible rock had formed in the pit of his stomach.

Sensei Andrew rolled down his window a crack as they inched forward passed the emergency vehicles. One of the police officers approached the Prius, "We're just going to get your to drive slowly as you pass the emergency crew, sir."

"What happened?"

"Lady flipped her Jeep...skidded right across the road and off the bridge...so take your time."

Ben had frozen at the police officer's words, "Mom?"

Sensei Andrew looked at his charge, "I'm sure it wasn't your Mom...she drives a-"

"Jeep...we have a blue Jeep."

"You think you know the lady, son?" The officer frowned and looked over at Ben.

"His Mom was supposed to pick him up from karate; we couldn't reach her on her cellphone. I just figured one of the cell towers had gone down in the weather."

"Hold on." The officer turned away from the Prius and spoke into his radio, "Archie, we got possible kin of the vic on site. You got an ID yet? Bring it up, would ya?" The officer turned back to Andrew and Ben, "I'm going to get you to pull over to the side. We'll sort this out in a jiff, don'tcha worry."

Andrew pulled his car over to where the officer had directed and turned in his seat to face Ben. "Hey, buddy-everything's gonna be okay."

Ben blinked in Andrew's direction. _Why were adults such bad liars?_

XXX

Bobby tore over to Marcy's after his phone call to Rufus. _Damn fool didn't know to stab to Okami seven times.._.and where did he expect Bobby to find a bamboo knife blessed by a Shinto priest so that he could clean up the mess?

Luckily, Marcy's wood-chipper turned out to be in perfect working condition.

XXX

Bobby called Rufus in the early hours of the morning, once he'd gotten back home to shower the Okami blood off himself.

Rufus came through with some interesting information concerning Crowley, a.k.a. Fergus Rodric MacLeod, a.k.a. the King of Hell born in Canisbay, Scotland, 1661, father of a son named Gavin who'd died moving across the pond in 1723. Rufus even got a lead on a signet ring that was found in the wreckage and currently in the possession of the maritime museum in Andover; Treasures of the Deep exhibit. Damn fool was even going to go get it for him.

Rufus wasn't entirely wrong about his plan. If he could get the son's ghost, he could have a little chat for some dirt to swap to Crowley for his soul.

XXX

Saturday afternoon found Frank surfing an airline website for flight times and prices on her laptop, amidst checking emails from her grandfather and her best friend Steph. They'd spent the rest of the day in the motel in Madison, Wisconsin; Sam was looking for another case on his own laptop, Dean was cleaning their arsenal with a surly expression on his face that seemed to deepen every time he looked over at Frank.

The tension had only mounted after she finished _Dark Side of the Moon._ Frank hadn't liked reading about the marital tension between Mary and John, she didn't like the way her gut twisted over Sam's heaven being the night he left for Stanford--one of Dean's worst memories. The frightening tale of the Winchesters being stalked by Zachariah made her head ache. The brief pleasure of seeing Pamela the psychic and Ash in heaven did not ease the encounter with a twisted version of Mary...and whatever Zachariah was implying they were doing together.

Even when they were saved by Joshua, Frank did not feel comforted by his pessimistic words. It just didn't sit right with her when Joshua told them that God 'didn't think it was His problem.' And Castiel had been so disappointed.

That evening, Dean's cellphone rang. He wiped his hands on a rag and fished the phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen, frowned and answered, "Hello?"

"Is this Dean Winchester?" a curt voice came over the line.

"Uh, who is this?"

There was a short silence before the man answered tersely, "Eric Braeden."

"Braeden?...Like Lisa and Ben Brae-"

"Yes. I'm her brother."

"Ok, yeah, this is Dean."

Sam looked over at his brother curiously.

"Lisa's dead."

As much as Dean appreciated directness, he nearly fumbled his cellphone. "What? How?"

"Car accident."

"Was Ben hurt?"

"He's fine. She was on her way to pick him up from his Karate class."

Dean sat down heavily.

Frank and Sam exchanged concerned looks.

"The funeral's in a few days."

"Right."

"It's here in Cicero. Do you have a pen? I'll give you directions to the funeral home."

"Uh, hold on." Dean covered his phone and grabbed the motel stationary.

"You okay?" Sam asked quietly.

"Lisa was killed."

Frank and Sam wore identical shocked expressions.

Dean jotted down the directions from Eric. He ended the call and grabbed the Impala's keys.

"Dean," Sam's face wore an expression of anguish, "Where are you going?"

"Out." Dean growled.

"When will you be-"

"Later." Dean left the motel room.

Frank rose from where she was sitting with her laptop on the other bed and picked up the pad of motel stationary. "Hartley Funeral Homes. 209 West Jackson Street, Cicero, Indiana. Eric Braeden." she looked up. "Should we go after him?"

Sam frowned at the door, and then looked at the bed. "No, he left everything here...he won't go far. We'll be here when he gets back."

Frank nodded, trusting Sam's judgement. "How long will it take to get to Cicero?"

"Less than a day, 6 hours maybe."

"We can stay here tonight. Tomorrow morning we'll get Dean fed, and then we'll head out." If there's one thing Frank had learned from traveling with the Winchesters, it's that Dean operated better on a full stomach.

Sam nodded in agreement.

"God didn't give up." Frank said after a moment, her posture straightening.

"What?" Sam was thrown by her non sequitur.

Frank gestured at the copy of _Dark Side of the Moon_ that she'd left on the bedside table once she had finished reading it. "God wanted you to remember your trip to Heaven. He didn't back off because He doesn't care; He back off because He'd given you everything you needed to finish the job." Frank was moving around the room restlessly. "Like Winston Churchill."

Sam cocked his head to the side, considering, "You think so?"

Frank's eyes gleamed. "I know so."

Sam smiled, "You might be right."

"By the way, what happened to the amulet? Did you fish it out of that trash bin?"

Sam inclined his head and smiled.

"Go Team Free Will!"

XXX

Dean was frantic with worry about Ben. The day that Dean had showed up at the Braeden's door after Sam had fallen into the Pit with Lucifer and Michael was the beginning of a rocky month. Dean had been half out of his mind with grief, he drank too much, had nightmares, and searched through every book he could get his hands on, all the while trying to fit into the puzzle of Lisa and Ben's lives.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the bar down the street and strolled inside. He needed a drink more than he needed air right now.

His heart was torn in two for Ben. Growing up without Mom had been rough on Sam and Dean, but at least they'd had Dad. Ben only had one parent to begin with, and now he had no one. _Well, except maybe his uncle,_ Dean considered _, Eric--was it?_

There was no question over whether or not they were going to the funeral. Dean had to make sure that Ben was going to be ok. He had to make sure that someone was going to be there for the kid.

Dean signaled to the bartender to bring him over a shot as he settled onto the stool at the bar and slapped down some cash.

Ben was probably going to go live with this uncle. Dean considered that he didn't know much about Lisa's brother at all, just that she'd had one. They'd drifted apart after their father, Gerald Braeden, had died of lung cancer close to when Dean had actually met Lisa for the first time. _The Bendy Weekend._ He didn't know if this Eric guy was going to be in any shape to take care of Ben. Didn't know if Eric was homeless, or violent, or even cared about Ben at all.

Dean stayed for a couple more shots before heading back to the motel. He wasn't nearly as drunk as he wanted to be. He wasn't even drunk enough to make him think twice about driving the Impala the couple blocks back to the room.

He turned his eye in the door to find Frank and Sam still up, sitting at the small kitchen table pouring over something on Sam's laptop.

He decided to give Bobby a call.

"Dean, you alright?"

"Lisa's dead. Car crash. We're heading to the funeral tomorrow." Dean said heavily.

"I'm sorry to hear that, son."

"Her brother called and told me to be there."

He heard a click on the phone, "Dean--"

"I don't know if it was our kinda thing. He said car accident, but I dunno."

"Dean, I got another call."

"You what?"

"Just hang on. I gotta take this, it's important." the line was put on hold.

"Bobby?"

XXX

"Rufus?" Bobby answered his other line.

"The good news is, I snagged the ring, Bobby. However--" the connection crackled with Rufus' voice. _Were those sirens in the background?_

"Tell me that ain't--"

"Yeah, yeah. yeah. Three guesses and one of them, it ain't the paramedics. Listen Bobby, I gotta stash the ring."

"Don't swallow it," Bobby said quickly.

"Right. I'm swallowing it, Bobby."

"Don't swallow it," Bobby repeated, more insistently this time, but he could hear the tell-tale sound of Rufus gulping and grunting over the phone. Balls.

He sighed and switched back to Dean on hold.

"You still there, Dean?"

"Bobby, what the hell?"

"I--Sorry." _What am I going to do about Rufus?_ He let Dean's voice buzz in his ear.

"You know, you are the one person that I can talk to about this stuff. About Sam, about leaving Lisa and Ben. I mean, I don't even know which way is up right now. Bobby? Hello?"

Bobby was shaken from his reverie. "I hear you, son. It just ain't a good time."

"Yeah, okay. You know what? Forget it. I mean, I'm baring my soul like a frigging girl here...and you got stuff to do. So that is--That's fine."

Bobby mostly managed to keep from rolling his eyes. _Frank was with them, wasn't she? Why couldn't Dean go to her about this stuff? Or Sam, Sam was always interested in hearing about Dean's feelings._

Dean continued, "That's fine. Seriously, a little selfish. It's not all about you."

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Where's your brother?"

"With Frank."

"Get him."

XXX

"You're on speaker, Bobby." Dean informed, holding the phone between his brother and himself.

Frank fixed a drink for herself and pulled up a chair next to the window.

"Sam, Dean? I love you like my own. I do." Bobby's voice was serious.

Frank smiled.

"But sometimes--Sometimes you two are the whiniest, most self-absorbed sons of bitches I ever met."

Frank's jaw dropped.

"I'm selfish? Me? I do everything for you. Everything! You need some lore scrounged up? You need your asses pulled out of the fire? You need someone to bitch to about each other? You call me and I come through. Every damn time. And what do I get for it? Jack with a side of squat!"

Frank shifted in her chair uncomfortably and looked towards the door, _Should I go?_ she mouthed to Sam

"Bobby--" Dean tried to interject.

"Do I sound like I'm done?" Bobby was on a roll now.

Frank winced as she stood to leave, miming apologies.  
  
Bobby continued, "Now look, I know you got issues. God knows I know. But I've got a news flash for you. You ain't the center of the universe. Now it may have slipped you mind that Crowley owns my soul and the meter is running!"

Frank's hand froze on the door handle.

"And I will be damned if I am gonna sit around and be damned! So how about you two sack up and help me for once?"

Frank pivoted back towards the Winchesters and the phone, her face stone white.

"Bobby, all you gotta do is ask." Sam said tentatively, glancing over at Frank.

"Anything you need, we're there." Dean said thickly.

"Yeah _Dad,_ anything." Frank's voice was icy.

"Balls."

XXX

Early the next day, a clear Sunday morning, Bobby met with Sheriff Mills to ask for a favour. He needed that ring out of Rufus. And he should probably help bust him out of custody, for good measure.

However, the good Sheriff seemed like she was going to be less than helpful.

XXX

Frank and the Winchesters were on the road again, heading for Indiana. Frank was reading _Point of No Return_ in the back seat, trying to keep her anger at her father's deal towards the back of her mind.

"The real Adam is a whole lot more like Dean than Ghoul Adam." Frank mused. "And gets along with him better, too."

Dean's scowl deepened as he thought of yet another person he had lost along the way. Sam looked over at his brother with a furrowed brow as Dean accelerated along the country road, kicking up dust with the Impala's tires.

XXXX

"What I find interesting is that after being around for millennia these creatures still find it easy to underestimate humans as worthy opponents." Frank looked up from her copy of _Hammer of the Gods._

"Yes, fascinating." Dean muttered.

"Well, it's not hard to beat humans when you have supernatural abilities." Sam pointed out, giving Dean a worried sidelong glance.

Dean ignored his brother's silent concern.

"It is when those humans have been chosen by God." Frank argued.

"What exactly makes Lucifer think that, after he destroys the world, God isn't going to smite him?" Frank was a little at a loss to understand the Devil's logic.

Sam considered, "Probably he thought that God is off somewhere, not caring."

"Idjit." Frank muttered, turning the page.

XXX

Frank slapped her hand over her mouth with a gasp, "Oh no!" her eyes were welling up with tears.

"What's wrong?" Dean nearly swerved into oncoming traffic.

"She's still reading." Sam said, craning his head back.

"What happened?" Dean asked, craning to look at the book cover.

"Lucifer just...he just...Gabriel's dead!" Frank wiped her tears away, looking at Dean balefully, "I can't believe he killed him..."

XXXX

Frank slammed the copy of _The Devil You Know_ shut in a fit of anger. "I still can't believe he sold his soul. Has he learned _nothing_ from you guys?" Frank sent them both a fierce glare, gave a frustrated growl and picked the next book. A few minutes later she groaned. "Well, that's just perfect...Castiel lost his angelic powers. Seriously, what else could _possibly_ go wrong?"

"We've learned it's best not to say that." Sam shrugged, "It's like asking for trouble."

"Fair enough."

XXXX

"Of course Michael is using Adam as his vessel!" Frank exclaimed loudly as Dean pulled away from the drive-thru.

"Ah yes, getting to the good part, are you?" Dean asked grimly as he unloaded the brown paper bag.

Frank set her book down and wandered over, drawn by the smell of fried grease. "What did you end up ordering, anyway?"

"It's international food," Dean gestured over his shoulder at the small restaurant that was shrinking in the rearview mirror, "-we've got Chinese, Thai, Mexican-something called escamole tacos, and regular all-American burgers."

"Escamoles, you mean those ant eggs that are slightly nutty tasting? I didn't know they sold those in the States." Frank mused.

"Ant eggs?" Sam asked, wrinkling his brow.

"Yeah, they are harvested from these giant venomous black ants that live in the roots of agave plants. Usually the eggs are served in tacos with a side of guacamole." Frank said with an amused smile on her face.

"Um, I think I'll pass on those." Dean curled his lip, reaching into the bag and tossing the offending burritos out the window. "Do you think the rest of this stuff is safe to eat?"

"I didn't say it wasn't safe..." Frank protested, face stunned at Dean's blatant littering.

"Edible, then?" Sam supplied.

"It's edible. It's just...exotic."

"I think I'm going to stick with the traditional burger, if it's all the same to you." Dean eyed the food suspiciously.

Frank rolled her eyes, leaned over the front seat to grab the container of Soo Guy and opened it, inhaling the almond scent. "Variety is the spice of life."

"William Cowper." Sam cited, opening the wrapping on his burger.

"Enough with the English lesson, I'm starving." Dean said, driving with one hand and digging into his own burger.

"What do you say we pull over to eat?" Frank suggested. "I saw a picnic area that we passed when we came off the highway.

"The weather's nice." Dean said by way of agreement.

Frank smiled at Dean and minutes later, after directing Dean to the picnic tables, helped the brothers move the party outdoors. She said a small prayer of thanks over the food, and they all enjoyed their dinner in silence, contemplating the cooling October weather and the strange take-out place near Joliet, Illinois that featured ant egg burritos.

XXXX

After lunch they threw out their takeout garbage and headed back into the car. Frank picked up her book again. "Neither of us can remember?" she scoffed after a few minutes back on the road.

"Uh...what?" Sam asked.

"Death is talking out of his ass about how neither he, nor God, can remember who came first. God is God. I suspect that God remembers that He came first." Frank was affronted by Death's assertion to the contrary.

Sam was about to comment when it became evident that Frank was not quite done with her rant, "And as for Death thinking that Dean has an inflated sense of his own importance...uh, Death thinks he's going to reap God. Yet Death can be bound by a spell that Lucifer worked. Clearly Death's conveniently forgotten all that lore that mentions the whole 'omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent' description of God. That, or someone's been telling Death lies."

"You don't think God can be reaped?" Dean wanted to know.

"Nope."

"Killed?"

"Nope."

"Die-"

"No! Who are you--Neitzsche?"

"-of old age...?"

Frank regarded Dean in the rearview mirror with an extremely nonplussed expression." Are you trying to get a rise out of me?"

Dean wore his innocent face.

"That's what I thought. You better be careful or you're going to find yourself in the belly of a giant fish." Frank rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling as she turned the page of the book.

XXXX

Frank took a deep breath, picked up _Swan Song_ and stared at the cover contemplatively. "So, the Apocalypse, eh?" She asked nervously.

"Don't you think you should rest and just read that tomorrow?" Dean suggested gently.

Frank looked at Dean and quirked an eyebrow, "I don't think I could be surprised by anything anymore. Besides, everything turned out ok, right? Both of you are alive, Castiel has his angel powers back, the world didn't end."

"Still, it's not going to be a picnic to read about." Sam said cautiously.

"I'm sure it wasn't a picnic to live out, either." Frank pointed out, making herself comfortable in the back seat.

Dean and Sam would look over to Frank every so often as she read the last book that Chuck had published. She turned the pages with trepidation, fingers nervous and trembling.

Several pages in they heard her gasp and cover her mouth in shock.

"What happened? Are you going to be ok?" Dean half-turned from the wheel.

"He just exploded Castiel...he broke Bobby's neck." Frank's face was dark with fury, "And now he's beating you to a bloody pulp...I am so glad you put him back in the Pit." Frank went back to reading with a vicious turn of the page.

Sam pursed his lips. "So are we."

XXX

Frank closed the book and looked over at Dean. _How had he gone from living with Ben and Lisa to traveling on the road again with Sam? And how did Sam get out of Hell?_ She looked around for the next book, but couldn't find it. "This is it? Where's the next book?"

"How does it end?" Sam asked curiously.

"Well, you and Lucifer and Michael fall into the Pit. Dean goes to Lisa's. You show up outside her house. Fade to black. What happened?"

"Michael locked Lucifer in the Pit. Then he pulled Sam out." Dean said.

"And then Dean left with me."

"What happened to the apple pie life?"

"I don't think we'll ever get that." Dean said carefully.

Frank nodded, _"There was a very cautious man. Who never laughed or played. He never risked, he never tried. He never sang or prayed. And when he one day passed away, his insurance was denied. For since he never really lived, they claimed he never died."_

"That's what we should have been doing this whole time...life insurance claims. Credit card fraud is small potatoes...we should have been cashing in on each other." Dean nodded.

"I don't think that was her point." Sam said slowly.

Dean shrugged. "I know...but I'm just sayin'..."

Frank put _Swan Song_ back into the cardboard box beside her on the back seat of the Impala with all of the other Supernatural novels. She leaned her arm on the door and stared out the window. If she was honest with herself, she was glad that Dean had not remained in domesticity. It just wasn't what he was meant for. She felt the same way about herself. It was part of the reason she'd gone off to Haiti for 6 months. It was part of the reason why she'd stayed with the Winchesters on their zigzagged roadtrip across the continental US, instead of flying home after meeting Bobby. Sam and Dean's family motto of 'saving people and hunting things' was not far off from her own desire to save the world over one sick or injured person at a time. The wanderlust had gripped her tightly at a very young age and she thrilled at the chance for adventure.

 _"Wild heart, child heart, all of the world your home. Glad heart, mad heart, what can you do but roam?"_ she remembered a line from a poem.

"Robert Service. Wanderlust." Sam glanced over his shoulder.

 _"Mais oui."_ Frank smiled.

 _"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose."_ Dean put in his two cents.

"Theodore Geisel." Sam cited.

"Nope! Dr. Seuss." Dean gave Sam a self-satisfied smirk for knowing something Sam didn't.

"Dean, Geisel is Dr. Seuss." Sam corrected.

"I've never understood why male writers take pseudonyms." Frank said, "I mean, I understand why S.E. Hinton and J.K. Rowling used their initials, and Harper Lee was just lucky with her gender-neutral name...but what purpose does 'Carver Edlund' serve for Chuck, that his own name couldn't?"

"Anonymity?" Dean suggested.

"Yeah, but we found him." Sam pointed out.

"But that's because we're awesome." Dean reminded his brother.

XXXX

Sheriff Mills came through after all. She showed right up on Bobby's doorstep with Rufus in tow. She was surly and threatened his ass, but left without saying much else.

And Rufus had the ring.

Bobby wasn't much for counting his chickens, but at least things were looking up.

XXXX

The drive was too short for Dean's taste. They arrived in Cicero in record time. The ride had mostly been silent, aside from Frank's book commentary. Sam and Frank had exchanged multiple unsubtle looks of worry back and forth the entire time.

Frank had arranged for them to stay in a Bed & Breakfast right in town and Dean was now surrounded by printed pink roses that covered every surface: the bedspread, the wallpaper, the lampshades, the curtains, the chair cushions...and Royal Doulton figurines.

Sam had hacked into the Police Department and read the accident report. He printed a copy for Dean to see for himself, but summarized, "It was an accident—not our thing at all."

Sam knew how worried Dean had been about that prospect. It was a nature of the job, of their life. It was part of the reason Dean had left Lisa and Ben to re-join Sam—the sad truth was that people close to them were in danger of being hurt. Knowing that Lisa had died not in a supernatural manner made dealing with her passing a little easier on Dean's soul. Yes, it was still horrible and violent, but at the very least it hadn't been Dean's fault.

It was too late in the evening to go to the visitation at the funeral home, or even to visit Ben. Frank kept Dean from heading out to a local bar, and instead led him to the communal sitting room. The other guests including Sam were already abed for the night.

"How about we drink out of glasses like civilized people, hmm?" Frank took Dean's flask gently from his hand.

"This isn't gonna turn into a chick flick moment, is it?" Dean asked apprehensively, allowing himself to be led over to the couch.

"Not if you don't want it to." Frank shrugged, pulling a whiskey bottle from her purse. "A little psychobabble never killed anyone."

Dean looked at the bottle in surprise. "You a closet alcoholic or something?"

"I'm a doctor, this is for medicinal purposes. "Frank said sagely ."Take a few of these and call me in the morning."

Dean snorted.

Frank disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two tumbler glasses. She poured a healthy helping of the whiskey for both glasses, handing one over to Dean. She sat down on the chair facing the couch.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Yes, and then, naturally I will have my wicked way with you." Frank grimaced as she sipped some of her drink.

"Um, ok...no offense, but _Christo?"_

Frank was aware that she was being slightly creepy, the way she was staring so intently at Dean as he drank his whiskey. "I'm just trying to get your mind off things--is it working?"

"Yes, my concern that you might be possessed is overriding my every other thought." Dean didn't know what to make of Frank.

"So, what-are you the only one who hasn't been possessed? Sam and Bobby and John and I...but not you?"

"I guess." Dean considered.

"Well, I know all the cool kids are doing it, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's less fun than you might imagine." Frank kicked off her shoes onto the floor.

"Noted."

"Possession is nine tenths of the law." Frank tried to crack a smile.

"What the hell does that even mean?" Dean demanded impatiently.

"It's adverse possession. If you possess something...or in this case, someone, you have a stronger legal claim to owning it than someone who merely says it belongs to them. Like squatter's rights. Sam could probably explain it better than I can...he's the one who studied Law." Frank poured herself another glass, "But then again we can't forget _Nemo dat quod non habet_."

Dean narrowed his eyes trying to translate the latin.

"It's a legal rule. No one can give what he does not have. It keeps someone who has no ownership from selling what isn't there's in the first place. The purchaser and the seller have no ownership title. What I want to know is, as far as crossroads demons go, how can a human sell their soul to a demon, if you're really not even the owner of your soul in the first place? Didn't that happen a few years ago on Ebay? Some guy tried to sell his soul and they put a stop to it, because technically your soul belongs to God." Frank's eyes were narrowed in contemplation. "More whiskey?" she held out the bottle.

Dean eyed her empty glass, "I'm still working on mine."

"So...we're probably going to look for another hunt after this is over, right? Work out all that aggression and anger?"

"Maybe." Dean was now regarding Frank with increasing concern.

"Sounds pretty violent."

"You're the one who is suggesting it." Dean pointed out.

"It's what you did during the Apocalypse--using all that anger and energy constructively, "Frank looked around her as if searching for something. She tucked her legs beneath herself and sat still for a moment.

"Well, it was the Apocalypse!"

Frank finished off another glass and resituated herself on the carpeted floor, stretching out on her stomach. "You should know, you started it." she muttered.

Dean's jaw dropped.

Frank looked up at his silence, "Too soon?"

"Do you not remember what it was that I did in Hell?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes, _'The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.'_ Dean, do you know who Josef Mengele was?"

"Psycho Holocaust doctor, right?"

"How are you any worse than him?"

"He didn't bring on the Apocalypse. "Dean argued.

"He didn't stop the Apocalypse, either." Frank replied succinctly.

They spent the next few moments in silence.

"What's he like?" Frank looked up from the floor.

"Who?"

"Ben."

Dean was not expecting that. He considered for a second, "He's like a kid. Only, you know, better."

"I think he's yours."

"What?"

"Pardon." Frank corrected.

"Pardon, what?" Dean rephrased.

"Ben. I think he's your son. I think Lisa lied to your face because she thought you weren't going to stick around. And then I think it became too hard for her to admit the truth. That is what I think."

Dean's mouth was hanging open. He was speechless. He had no words. None.

Frank sat up and patted Dean's knee, "Good talk."

Her hand on his knee provoked a reaction, "I think you're very drunk." Dean said slowly, "And you should go to bed."

 _"In vino veritas,"_ Frank smiled sweetly up at him from her position at his feet. "I needed that alcohol to tell you."

Dean sighed and finished his glass...his only glass of whiskey. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Frank grinned and snickered.

"Not...like that." Dean stood and helped her to her feet. She leaned in and hugged him before turning, grabbing her purse and weaving her way to the stairs.

Dean couldn't decide if Frank had taken the stairs ahead of him on purpose or not. He supposed it didn't really matter, considering he got to admire her ass either way.

"Hoo-boy...vertigo...We should both have some Gatorade...don't want to be hung-over in the morning." Frank had resorted to crawling up the stairs, "It would be in poor taste to show up like that to a funeral."

Dean ushered her into her bedroom, "I'll see you in the morning, Frank."

"Bright and early." She winked at him and uncapped her Gatorade, raised the bottle in a toast to Dean and started drinking.

"Bright and early." Dean agreed tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. He shut the door behind him and padded down the hall to his own bedroom. Suddenly he felt very tired, so he kicked off his boots and crawled into bed.

XXXX

Morning dawned and Sam came to collect Frank and Dean from their rooms. Frank had dark circles under her eyes, but she was not hung-over. "Well, I know I must have really gotten drunk, because last night was a blur-I don't even know where I left me shoes...I can't find them anywhere in my room." she frowned.

"You don't remember." Dean observed. "Interesting."

"Why--was I ridiculous?"

"I went to bed, so I have no idea." Sam raised his hands.

As it was the beginning of the second week of October, Frank had chosen to wear her camel hair coat over her pant-suit. The weather in Cicero was cooler than average for this time of year in Indiana and Dean was grateful for the high collar on the overcoat he usually wore to impersonate an F.B.I. agent.

XXXX

Along with the heavy smell of funeral lilies, Eric Braeden met Frank and the Winchesters at the door of Hartley Funeral Home with a grim expression. Dean recognized him from the very old picture that Lisa had kept of him in a frame in her bedroom. He was tall and had dark hair and eyes, like Lisa, and looked like a lawyer or an accountant—someone serious and boring. Dean supposed he was handsome, if accountants were your sort of thing. Introductions were made and Lisa's brother led them to a private room near the front entrance.

"Lisa left a letter with me to give to you. I'd like you to read it before going inside." Eric said shortly.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks with each other and Frank watched with a critical look on her face as Eric left the room, closing the door behind himself.

"Chilly reception?" Dean observed.

"Well, his sister did just die." Sam said fairly.

Frank crossed her arms, "I don't think he's much of a fan of Dean."

Dean face-shrugged and opened the envelope.

"Did you want some privacy?" Frank uncrossed her arms.

"It's fine, I'm sure this won't take long." Dean shook his head and began to read to himself, recognizing Lisa's curly handwriting;

_June 2010_

_Dean,_

_I'm writing this letter in the event of my death. There's something I should have told you sooner, but I never did because I thought it was best for everyone. You'll probably disagree, but maybe not, since I'm writing this after you've left us again._

_Ben is yours. Maybe you already know that in your heart, you certainly always treat him like he is. I don't think we ever could have been a real family, at least not in the way that I imagine families should be. Our lives are too different. So I lied about who Ben's real father was._

_So far I don't regret this decision. But I do know that if something ever happened to me, I would want you to know the truth._

_Having said that, I've made provisions in my Will that my brother and his wife be given legal guardianship over Ben. You don't know Eric, but I think this is the right decision. Your way of life isn't safe for Ben, we both know that. Please don't fight for custody of our son._

_~Lisa_

Dean scrubbed a hand across his brow and gave a small sigh. He passed the letter to Sam, who skimmed the words quickly. "What?" Sam looked at Dean in startled surprise.

"May I?" Frank held out her hand. Dean took the letter from Sam and gave it to Frank. Frank wore a deep frown as she read the words. She bit her lip and looked over at Dean in apprehension.

Lisa hadn't said anything. Not for the entire month that Dean lived with them after Sam had gone to Hell. Dean had, of course, slipped into the role of secondary caregiver to Ben, but that was because he loved the kid, independent of any sort of biological confirmation. Sure, he had certainly suspected, but she hadn't said a word. Maybe she knew he wasn't going to stay and Dean halfway understood that...but Ben was also his blood. And anyone who knew anything about a Winchester knew what blood meant to them.

Frank was regarding Dean curiously. If Dean's emotions were in turmoil, he certainly didn't show it. It was Sam who looked far more upset than Dean did—but that was perhaps because Sam had never considered the possibility that Lisa hadn't told Dean the truth about Ben. Dean had considered that possibility many times.

Frank gave the letter back to Dean and popped her head out of the private room. She spotted Eric standing off to the side by his wife, and caught his eye. She nodded her head towards the room and watched him excuse himself from his wife's side.

Frank considered Eric as he entered the room. He glanced at her, looking unsettled by her sour expression before turning his attention to the Winchesters.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Eric spoke up, "So everyone's on the same page now?"

Frank clenched her jaw in irritation. It was taking all of her considerable self-control to keep from chastising this man for his disagreeable manner. The last thing Dean needed right now was for her to stick her nose into his business. Still, dead sister notwithstanding, this guy was a jerk.

"We're all on the same page." Dean said tersely.

"You're welcome to come in and pay your respects; I'll show you the way." Eric gave a short nod, satisfied.

Sam gave Dean a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and followed the group into the main section of the funeral home.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Frank and Sam. He groaned internally at their expressions. Sam's face indicated his rapid-fire cognizance of the situation…the legal ramifications and loopholes available, Dean's rights and claims. Frank wore a reproachful look that indicated how fervently she wanted to rip Eric Braeden a new one. Dean deeply hoped that Sam and Frank could keep themselves from turning into Matlock and Perry Mason. The thought of his brother and their friend defending him old-school tv lawyer-style made him smile slightly.

Dean stopped short with a thought. Sam and Frank narrowly avoided colliding with him.

"Does Ben know?"

"Yes." Eric said brusquely. "Lisa also left him a letter."

Dean nodded curtly.

The group resumed their journey into the visitation parlour.

The first time Dean had seen Ben, the boy had been 8 years old and his head had reached Dean's navel. Even with Ben sitting in a slouched position at the open casket of his dead mother, Dean could see that Ben had sprouted at least 6 inches since then—and 3 of those inches had happened since the last time Dean had seen the boy. He wasn't tall for an 11 year old, but he wasn't short. And if Dean remembered correctly, Sam was small for his age until he turned 15, at which point he never seemed to stop growing.

The look that Ben gave him as soon as he spotted Dean in the funeral home nearly tore the eldest Winchester in two. Ben flung himself into Dean's arms with the same abandon as he'd done all those years ago after Dean had taught him how exactly to get his game back from Ryan Humphrey.

Sam and Frank stepped away, giving the pair some privacy. Eric frowned at the scene and went to re-join his wife.

Dean felt Ben give a full body shudder as the kid tried to choke back his grief. Dean wrapped his arms around him and squeezed tightly. He felt his own eyes prick with tears and he took a steadying breath. "How are you holding up?"

Ben looked up at Dean with a doleful expression; eyes glistening, bottom lip trembling and face flushed in misery. "Did Uncle Eric talk to you?"

Dean nodded.

Ben stepped away from the hug and led Dean over to a couch that was near the casket. "She was picking me up from Karate."

Dean heard what Ben wasn't saying. "It's not your fault."

Ben looked at Dean dubiously. "If I hadn't—"

Dean shook his head, "Not your fault."

"But…"

Dean gave Ben a stern look. Ben's shoulders slumped in acceptance.

XXXX

"I can't believe her." Sam was fuming in the corner with Frank.

"Her, I understand." Frank admitted through gritted teeth. _"He's_ the one who steams my veggies."

"Who—Dean?"

"No, that…ass-butt." Frank jutted her chin in Eric's direction.

"Ass-butt?" Sam smirked grimly.

Frank snorted delicately, "What? Castiel can say it, but I can't?"

"Fair enough." Sam relented, "But seriously, lying about the kid? And then telling him not to want custody? Where the hell does she get off?"

"She asked him not to pursue custody. It's not the same thing as telling him not to—although the pre-emptive legal arrangement was a little…"

"Bitchy?" Sam pulled a face.

"Inconsiderate." Frank amended diplomatically.

"Ben is Dean's _son."_ Sam ground out under his breath, trying to keep from raising his voice.

"A valid point to consider, however, do you not remember how you felt growing up on the road?" Frank gently reminded him, "If apple pie life is pretty much all Ben has ever known, outside one experience with what you guys deal with on a daily basis, having him live with his uncle is probably a more stable and less upsetting option than roaming around the country in a classic car."

Sam grimaced at the truth of Frank's assessment.

"I'm not trying to be cruel, or suggest Dean isn't an amazing father—nor do I imagine that's what Lisa was implying, but facts in evidence indicate that this arrangement is likely best for everyone." Frank continued kindly. "Regardless of how well you turned out, it's not fair to put Ben through the same upbringing."

Sam felt duly chastened. He glanced over at his brother, who was in conversation with Ben on the couch. Despite Dean's benevolent feelings towards Ben, and now this newly discovered connection, Sam knew perfectly well that Dean was not nearly in the right place to start playing house for a pre-teen. Hunting was what he knew best. Frank was right about the unfairness to Ben if Dean pursued custody of his son.

Why was life always so exceedingly unfair to their family?

XXXX

Dean gestured Sam and Frank to re-join them. He didn't relish bringing Ben over to the casket while he paid his last respects.

"Hi Sam." Ben greeted, looking over at Frank curiously.

"Ben, this is a new friend of ours, Dr. Frank Houdin," Dean introduced, "Frank, this is Ben."

Frank extended her hand, and Ben shook it tentatively. "You're not a therapist, are you?"

"No, I'm not." Frank chuckled genuinely, "I work as a surgeon."

"Brain surgeon?" Ben looked interested.

Frank considered Ben, "No, actually I'm a trauma surgeon."

"So, you could have saved my mom?" Ben asked helplessly.

Sam and Dean looked at Frank in a panic, taking in a collective breath and hoping desperately that she knew how fragile the situation was, how much people looked for someone to blame in times like this.

"Sometimes I can help people who have been hurt in a car accident." Frank nodded, "I understand that you mother didn't suffer because her death was very quick. No one can help in situations like that, no matter how much we wish we could."

Ben observed Frank with shrewd consideration. Frank held his gaze openly until he nodded and gave her a small, shy smile.

Dean and Sam let out their held breath in relief.

"Dean wants to say goodbye to Mom." Ben gestured to the casket, "Will you sit with me and wait?"

Frank nodded, and they both had a seat.

"I won't be long." Dean promised and left the trio.

Sam remained by the couch, looking on awkwardly as Frank turned towards Ben. "My Mom died when I was younger...younger than you."

"Yeah?" Ben looked at her hopefully, as though she was about to tell him something that would make everything better.

"And I didn't meet my Dad until a couple of months ago."

"Really?" Ben looked a little sceptical.

"I lived with my grandparents all of my life." Frank confided, shifting on the couch. Ben leaned into her side and she put her arm around him. "I heard you are going to go live with you uncle and aunt and cousin."

"They live in Grand Rapids, so I have to move. I have to change schools and leave all my friends."

"I think that could be a fun opportunity. When I went away to university, I didn't know anyone at all and I got to meet a lot of really interesting new friends. I missed my best friend a lot, but I called her and emailed her all the time."

"I don't think I'm going to like it in Michigan." Ben sighed.

"There's a really fun zoo in Detroit, Michigan. Perhaps your uncle will take you to see it. And Michigan is closer to Canada than Indiana is, maybe you can take some cool field trips across the border." Frank suggested.

"Why would I want to go to Canada?" Ben asked curiously.

Frank made an exaggeratedly offended-looking face. "Well, I'm from Canada, so it must be cool."

Ben looked at Frank in disbelief.

XXXX

Frank and the Winchesters left the visitation with promises to return the following day for the last visitation and the funeral.

Eric Braeden watched them leave with a disgruntled expression, but Ben looked like at least some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and that was really all that mattered to Dean.

A pitiful buffet was set up at the B&B when they returned and Dean dug in heartily.

"So what's for dinner?" Sam said, sitting down next to Frank.

Frank poked at her food, "Uh, maybe-beef and some sort of vegetable-like green sauce."

"It's chicken-fried steak." Dean corrected.

"And green sauce." Frank added despondently.

"Sounds delicious." Sam watched in amusement as Frank stared hopelessly at her meal.

Frank's jaw clenched in a way that made Sam suspect that she was stifling a gag reflex as she surveyed the chicken fried steak Dean was happily eating. Her nostrils flared slightly every time she looked over at it.

XXXX

Frank slept fitfully that night. She was so restless that Dean could hear her through the paper thin wall that separated their rooms.

"Hey…" Dean knocked softly on her door.

Frank jerked awake, slightly disoriented. She slid out of bed and pulled the door open. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No…well, yeah." Dean looked concerned, "Were you having a nightmare?"

Frank looked embarrassed and nodded.

"Do you…" Dean looked horrified with himself,"…wanna talk about it?"

Frank waved her hand as though nightmares were inconsequential, "It's just stuff that happened in Haiti. Zombies, whatever."

Dean looked at her, as though trying to decide whether or not she was being metaphorical.

"You guys deal with that stuff all the time." Frank said, confirming the non-metaphorical zombies. "My one pathetic run-in with Haitian Voodoo is kid's stuff."

Dean blinked, "Okay, if you're sure."

"I'm good. I'm fine. Good back to bed." Frank assured.

"Okay, well…goodnight then."

"Sure, you too. See you tomorrow." Dean headed back to his room.

Frank closed her eyes and leaned against the door jamb. "Smooth move, Gordie Howe." She muttered under her breath. She rolled her eyes at herself and closed the door. She fished around in her purse for her cellphone and called Steph.

"I need you to remind me that in real life I am not a blithering idiot." she greeted her best friend.

"In real life, occasionally, you are not an idiot." Steph assured dutifully.

"I had a feeling that was the case." Frank said conversationally. "However, since I have gone down the rabbit hole, I have an IQ that is hovering below room temperature."

"Are doing drugs?"

"Metaphorical rabbit hole." Frank amended.

"Are you getting laid, at least?"

Frank chuckled, "Not even slightly."

"Do you know Kim Campbell?"

"The only female Prime Minister Canada has had? No, not personally."

"Well, she is a perfect example of preparation meeting opportunity at the ideal moment."

"You're using a political metaphor to analogize how I should prepare for wild gratuitous sex with a guy I'm on a roadtrip with?"

"She can be taught!"

"I don't really think sex is on the table right now."

"Sticking with the bed. Traditional. I can respect that."

"Steph!" Frank groaned, "I just mean we've sort of been dealing with a tragedy these last few days."

"He wears a lot of plaid?" Steph sympathized knowingly.

"No." Frank snorted.

"Do you have _any_ good news for me?"

"I might be coming home soon."

"Would that involve giving up the pursuit of your crush?" Steph was disappointed.

"Well, I don't imagine him coming with me…I don't think he's got a legal passport."

"What sort of heathens are you hanging around?"

"Not everyone has a passport, Steph."

"He has a driver's license, at least?"

"And a '67 Chevy Impala."

"You and your weirdo obsession with classic cars." Steph snickered, "No wonder you like this guy."

"I don't just like him because of the car." Frank snorted indignantly.

"I know, I know…you're weirdly picky, I remember. So, how much is in his 401K?"

"I'm going out on a limb and guessing he doesn't have one of those either." Frank admitted.

"...well, what one earth does he do that's got you all hot and bothered?"

"He's uncomplicated. Genuine, interesting, funny…heroic…smart."

"What does he DO?"

"He's an independent contractor."

"For what?"

"Specialized needs."

"Special needs?"

"He's a problem solver."

"Oh my God, Frank—is he a criminal? Are you dating a hitman? What's his name…I'm running him through the system…Oh God Frank…!"

"No!" Frank interrupted Steph's mounting concern. "It's-it's like what happened to me in Haiti."

"Oh?"

Frank knew how skeptical Steph was, but because they were friends Steph never outright said how she thought that Frank had just gotten too much sun one day and hallucinated zombies.

"I think it would be best if you do come home." Steph said carefully, not wanting to alienate her clearly delusional friend.

Frank sighed, suspecting what was going through Steph's mind. "I have to go. It's getting late and we're quite busy tomorrow."

"See you soon?"

"See you soon." Frank assured, hanging up and changing for bed. It had certainly been a long day.

In the next room, Dean lay awake, having overheard Frank's side of the phone call through the thin walls of the Bed and Breakfast.

_Frank was leaving them?_

XXX

Frank was half humming, half singing Stairway to Heaven under her breath at breakfast the next morning. Dean allowed himself a small smile as he forced himself to stomach a piece of toast before they all headed to the cemetery.

 _"'Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.'"_ The elderly cleric began the graveside service, "This is written in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 5, verse 4. And so shall you be comforted, during this time of mourning for Lisa Jayne Braeden; a mother, a sister, an aunt and a friend."

Dean spotted Ben across the casket, staring blankly at the grass at his feet.

"Though Lisa's death was sudden, she knew this day would one day come. She had prepared for the certainty of death that we all will face. One of the poems she had selected was anonymously written but expresses her feelings for us;

_'Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there, I did not die.' "_

Dean scanned the faces in the crowd. There was a lot of people in attendance, Lisa was popular with her neighbours and coworkers. Dean saw Katie Doolittle, one of the children who had been kidnapped by the changlings, and her mother Annette.

Lisa's brother Eric began reading the 23rd Psalm;

_"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul and guides me in the paths of righteousness, for His name's sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I shall fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest me a table in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest me with oil, my cup over flows. Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."_

The cleric asked the crowd to join him in the Lord's Prayer. The crowd murmured through the verses;

_"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine be the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever. Amen."_

Dean sighed as the minister continued to pray; "Almighty God, as you bring us face to face with our mortality, we thank you for making each one of us in your own image and giving us gifts in body, mind and spirit. We thank you now as we honor the memory of Lisa, whom you gave to us and have taken away. We entrust her to your mercy, and pray that you will show us the path of life, and the fullness of joy in your presence through all eternity. Amen."

Lisa's niece, a girl about Ben's age, named Kara read a poem from a pink spiral notebook; _"God hath not promised skies always blue, Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through. God hath not promised sun without rain. Joy without sorrow, peace without pain. But God hath promised strength for the day, rest for the labor, Light for the way. Grace for the trials, Help from above, Unfailing sympathy. Undying love…"_

XXXX

After the service, the Braedens, the Winchesters and Frank regrouped. Eric's wife Monica invited them to join their family for dinner at Lisa's. Sam accepted on the group's behalf while Eric and Dean looked generally displeased by this turn of events.

"These people are virtually your in-laws." Frank rationalized, as she followed the brother's back to the Impala, "Your grief is communal."

"It does bring me grief to think of that blowhard as my brother-in-law." Dean grumbled.

"He's probably a very nice person under different circumstances." Frank was not even convinced of this herself. Still, it needed to be said.

Sam was trying not to be entertained by the conversation.

XXXX

Frank and the Winchesters went back to the B&B to change clothes. Frank and Sam both knew that Dean was not going to be able to suffer through a family meal in a suit. Once the brothers were redressed in their usual casual attire, and Frank had reapplied some lip glass in the washroom, they headed for Lisa's house.

After an awkward greeting in the foyer from Eric Braeden, the group followed him into the kitchen where they found Monica and Ben. Monica Braeden had arranged the casseroles which had been dropped off by mourners after the funeral for the family.

Frank inspected the food with an air of curiosity. Nearly half of the dishes contained some variant of tuna. She made polite small talk with Monica who, as it turned out, worked as a medical secretary in Grand Rapids for a family physician. Frank learned that Eric was an insurance claims adjuster for a medium-sized firm. They played golf together on the weekends. Their daughter Kara, who was the same age as Ben, took piano lessons and loved horses and Justin Beiber.

Ben wandered in from the living room to join the women in the kitchen. "We're going to play Trivial Pursuit…do you want to play?" he asked Frank.

"Hon, we're going to eat soon. How about you get Kara to help you set the table?" Monica said.

Ben made a face and shrugged, "I guess."

"Trivial Pursuit was invented by Canadians." Frank informed Ben before he left the kitchen.

Ben shook his head as though he couldn't believe the nonsense that came out of the woman's mouth, before heading off to fetch his cousin.

"Does Ben have a particular interest in Canada?" Monica asked.

"Only in that it's the best part about living in Michigan." Frank joked.

Monica looked at Frank blankly.

"Kidding." Frank grimaced at her faux pas. Clearly Monica was not sarcasm-enabled. "Let me take the plates for the table." Frank offered quickly.

XXXX

When Dean learned at dinner that Lisa had been planning on taking Ben to the carnival that was currently in town, he insisted that Ben would still get to go.

"There's cotton candy, and a Moon Bounce…and a roller coaster—it's not very big, but you still have to be tall enough. Plus all the games and the House of Mirrors!" Ben said breathlessly, eyes shining in excitement.

"There's a celebration back home in Canada called _La Fête des Neiges de Montréal._ It's a Festival of Snow." Frank said in a tone that suggested nothing could possibly be more awesome.

Dean's glazed expression when Frank started speaking in French suggested he agreed with her.

"But do they have cotton candy?" Ben challenged.

"Of course, but they also have _Tarte au Sucre_ …which is pretty much a sugar pie made with maple syrup, boiled to a fudge and set on pastry." Frank shared, "Honestly, I have no idea while all Canadians are not 500 lbs."

"Probably because not all Canadians eat that on a regular basis." Sam suggested.

"I eat poutine at least once a week when I'm home." Frank argued, "They serve _that_ with a cardiologist."

"Wow, Canadian healthcare really is better." Sam grinned.

Frank chuckled, "Speaking of food, today is actually Thanksgiving Day in Canada."

"Thanksgiving's in November." Ben was really beginning to think that Frank was competely nuts.

"Ours is on the same day as Columbus Day. Actually," Frank said with an educational tone,"The first Canadian Thanksgiving was celebrated in April."

"Why?" Ben was incredulous.

"In 1872 the Prince of Wales had just recovered from a serious illness. It was a day of celebration." Frank shrugged, "Eventually Canadians started celebrating at the beginning of November, but by 1957 it was switched to the second weekend of October so that it wouldn't interfere with November 11, which is Remembrance Day in Canada-Americans observe the equivalent known as Veterans Day."

"So what kind of school plays do Canadian's have for Thanksgiving without pilgrims and Indians?" Dean was bothered by the lack of traditional iconography.

"I'm not sure. I was at boarding school. There is no Thanksgiving celebration in Switzerland."

"Of course you went to boarding school in Switzerland." Dean muttered.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're implying." Frank said dismissively, "In any case, Canadian Thanksgiving is less about Plymouth Rock, and more about simply having a nice meal with people you love. And generally some sort of Fall Fair."

The rest of the meal was enjoyed in relative silence. Frank helped Monica clear the table of the dishes and Eric looked at his watch, "The lawyer should be here soon." He turned to Dean, "He'll probably need you to sign some papers concerning custody."

Frank overheard this from the kitchen and frowned. Sam may not have graduated from Law school, but he was definitely going to be looking over those papers for Dean.

XXXX

When the lawyer arrived, Eric asked Frank and Sam to look after the kids in the den while Dean and the Braedens sorted through the legalities. Frank shot Sam a pointed look, and Sam nodded, hanging behind. Frank ushered the kids downstairs for a spirited game of Trivial Pursuit while the 'adults' talked.

The Will was read, predictably leaving Ben in the custody of his aunt and uncle until the age of majority. A fund was left in trust for his education. The house, which Lisa had owned outright, was also transferred into the care of her brother. Regarding Dean's paternity, Lisa had officially named him on Ben's birth certificate, and had set up the paperwork for Dean to sign which waived his right to custody.

Dean watched Sam as his brother poured over the paperwork that the lawyer had towed with him. The elder Winchester felt like his insides were on a Tilt-A-Whirl… _Ben is my son…I can't give him up…these people are nuts…they don't love him like I do…Ben is my son…but they can keep him away from the life I live…he can grow up away from the threats I face…Ben is my son…why would Lisa wait for something like this to happen?...Ben is my son…What if I never get to see him again…Ben is my son…Ben is my son…Benismyson…!_

Sam looked up at Dean, who was now slightly green. "Reader's Digest version: You waive your right to custody…but you retain visitation rights…if you want them. There's no proviso for child support because of the renounced custody."

"Bottom line?" Dean looked at Sam, slightly dazed.

"It's a good deal. You should sign the papers." Sam decided.

Dean looked over at Eric Braeden, who was looking tired, but satisfied.

"I want your word that I can see him." Dean felt proud that his voice hadn't trembled.

For the first time, Eric's face softened slightly. He exchanged looks with his wife and gave a nod, "My word." he agreed.

Dean signed his name on the documents and slumped back in his chair.

It had been a very long day.

XXXX

Bobby's ritual to summon Gavin MacLeod by the ring worked. And it turned out that Junior was just as chatty and petty as Senior.

Bobby was tentatively hopeful about this whole turn of events. He just had to set the rest of his plans in motion with the Winchesters to pull this whole thing off.

XXX

The next day, Frank and the Winchesters met the Braeden children early for their excursion to the carnival. Ben wasn't thrilled at the suggestion that Kara should accompany them, but was mollified by the fact that Frank would come along also.

They roamed around the carnival. The cool fall weather was comfortable and pleasant that mid-afternoon.

Frank tugged on Sam's sleeve, "Oh look! One of those shooting games. Bet you guys could win something!"

"Those are all rigged." Dean said.

"Come on, that's not true," Frank chided, "I'm going to play."

The brothers and their small charges followed her over.

"More money than brains," Dean joked.

Frank smirked. "That's only true because I'm embarrassingly rich."

"Who exactly is embarrassed by it?" Dean wanted to know.

"Good point."

XXXX

A triumphant Frank held a tiny plush toy aloft after 30 minutes and many dollars later. Ben had won a bigger stuffed animal, but Frank was proudest of hers.

"We must never take her to a casino." Sam intoned solemnly.

"Agreed." Dean muttered.

After trying every carnival ride with Ben and Kara, and buying them every sugary treat available from the vendors, Frank and the Winchesters dropped the kids off when the sun started dipping low in the sky.

"That was a pretty wicked day." Ben told Dean on the front porch after Kara had gone inside, and Sam and Frank went to wait in the car.

"It rocked pretty hard, didn't it?" Dean agreed.

Ben bit his lip. "I'm glad you're my Dad."

…Just when Dean thought this might not be so hard.

"Me too." Dean replied gruffly.

"You'll come to visit me in Michigan?" Ben looked expectantly worried.

"Just try to stop me." Dean smirked.

Ben grinned and hugged his father. Dean clutched his son tightly.

Dean slid into the driver's side of the Impala and drove away, watching as the boy shrank in the rear view mirror. Ben waved until the car was out of sight…and only went inside the house when his uncle called him in.

XXXX

They stayed the night in the B&B in Cicero and left early the next morning to the airport. Sam and Dean didn't have passports, so an international flight was out of the question...but Bobby still had a plan set in motion and Frank volunteered for the job.

"I'll be in and out before you can miss me." she said, "How about I meet you in New York City? It's easier to fly into JFK than some backwoods mid-western town, and I'm frankly ready for some big city shopping."

"I really don't feel good about you going alone." Dean said, not for the first time.

"I'm fairly certain that I can take care of myself." Frank likewise reassured.

XXX

"We should send Cas to meet her." Dean said as they watched her pass into the International flight lounge with her very expensive first class-round trip ticket.

"That's probably not a bad idea." Sam agreed. "You call Cas, I'll call Bobby."

XXX

While Bobby wasn't thrilled that his daughter was embarking on her first hunt without backup from the Winchesters, his nerves calmed slightly when Sam called to let him know that Cas would be on her shoulder as soon as she had boots on the ground.

He set the finishing touches on the summoning ritual for the King of Hell and waited for his arrival with his guts in knots.

He turned to see the demon standing beneath the trap, right where he wanted him. "Well, you look like hammered crap." he greeted.

"And you're a vision, as always." Bobby didn't try to parse Crowley's sarcastic flattery.

"Don't we both know how this game ends?" Crowley regarded the Devil's trap with a roll of his eyes. "Really Bobby, you gotta know when to fold 'em."

"Word on the street is that ever since Lucifer went to the pokey, you're the big kahuna downstairs."

"I see you've been reading the trades."

"Trouble in paradise?" Bobby asked dryly.

"Mate, you have no idea. I thought," Crowley poured himself a finger of Craig from his flask, "when I got the corner office, I thought it was all gonna be rainbows and two headed puppies." he dropped seltzer tablets into his drink, "But if I'm being honest, it's been hell." God, this guy loved the sound of his own voice.

Bobby sighed, "Thought that was the point."

"You know what the problem with demons is?"

Bobby humoured him, "They're demons?"

"Exactly. Evil, lying prats, the whole lot of them. And stupid." Crowley winced, "Try to show them a new way, a better way, and what do you get? Bugger all!"

Bobby pursed his lips and nodded.

"You know, there's days that I think Lucifer's whole 'spike anything with black eyes' plan, wasn't half bad. Hmm." Crowley chuckled, "Feels good to get it off my chest. We should make this a thing."

Bobby regarded him with disbelief, "Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?"

"A little." Crowley drew in a breath, "Anyhoo, obviously not here for a social call, so on with it."

"I want--"

"Ah. I'll save you the recap." Crowley interrupted, and then proceeded to mock the perceived impending conversation. "Are we done?"

"Just getting started." Bobby felt a smirk around his lips.

Gavin flickered into view.

Crowley blinked, "Gavin? Is that you. It's been so long. I love you so--" Crowley couldn't keep up with his charade and began to chuckle. "Sorry. your soul for my boy. That's it, right? I gotta give you credit for thinking outside the box on that one. But the problem is, I loathe the little bastard. You wanna torture him? Let me pull up a chair and watch. Hell, burn his bones, send him down to me. We can have a family reunion. That's right, son? You picked the wrong bargaining chip this time, my friend."

 _Why are demons so stupid?_ "He ain't a chip. I was just using him to dig up dirt on you."

Crowley's amused expression began to slip.

"And since Gavin hates you maybe even more than you hate him, he was more than happy to squawk."

"What did you tell him, son?" Crowley growled.

"Everything." Gavin replied with a menacing grin before flickering away.

"I know it all now, Fergus." Bobby said deliberately, "Now, you may be king of the dirtbags here, but in life? You were nothing but a two-bit tailor who sold his soul in exchange for an extra three inches below the belt."

"Just trying to hit double digits." Crowley snarked back. "So, you got a glimpse behind the curtain. And?"

"And now I know where you're planted." he picked up the phone and tossed it to the demon.

"Hello, Crowley."

"Who's this?"

"We haven't met. I'm just someone invested in Bobby's health and welfare."

"Sounds like filthy work."  
  
"I'm enjoying myself immensely. Met some interesting folks along the way. You see, Team Free Will has recruited and gone international. In fact, we're in your neck of the woods."

"To what purpose?"

"Archaeology."

"This is ridiculous. The whole burning bones thing. It's a myth."

"I know an employee of yours who'd disagree." Bobby shrugged.

"So that's where she's got to." Crowley muttered.

"You demons." Bobby sighed. "You think you're something special. But you're just spirits. Twisted, perverted, evil spirits. But end of the day, you're nothing but ghosts with an ego. We torch your bones, you go up in flames."

Frank flicked open the lighter, "You hear that Crowley? Dean Winchester gave me a lighter expressly for this purpose."

"Your bones for my soul. Going once, going twice." Bobby watched expectantly.

"Bollocks."

He inhaled and made a wiping motion with his hand.

"You can go ahead and leave in the part about my legs."

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Pleasure doing business with you." Bobby smirked.

"Now, if you don't mind." Crowley looked pointedly towards the trap on the ceiling.

XXX

"If you'll excuse me, I think you'll find, those are mine." Crowley strolled across the graveyard with a satchel in hand.

Cas stepped in front of Frank protectively.

"And what the hell is your bloody stake in all this?"

"Oh, one never really knows the things one will do for...or to...one's family." Frank smirked.

"You're Bobby's blood."

"And you tried to steal his soul." Frank ground out.

"A deal's a deal, sweetheart."

"Which is the only reason you get to walk away with these." she gestured to the bones at her feet.

"Don't think I'll forget this." Crowley growled at her.

XXX

Frank cast her arms wide as she waltzed through the international arrivals gate, _"Under the wide and starry sky dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you 'grave for me; 'Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.' "_

"Is that Robert Louis Stevenson?" Sam smiled.

"Just so."

Dean took her bag. "So, how was your first grave dig?"

"Oh, Castiel just sort of moved the earth and they rose to the top."

"Unbelievable."

"Work smart, not hard." Frank smirked.

XXX

 


	9. Take Me or Leave Me ~ RENT

Thanks to Frank, the trio was side-tracked again by a possible case in New York. She had been reading on the flight about some suspicious deaths surrounding the rehearsals at the Metropolitan Opera and suggested that the Winchester were just the guys to check it out.

Dean hated driving in New York City, so as soon as they picked her up at the airport, he made Sam take the wheel. He spent most of the rest of the drive into the city, twisted around in his seat, talking to Frank about the case.

XXX

They were staying at the Carlyle in Manhattan. Sam looked it up on the internet and discovered that rooms started at $337 a night. Those were the cheap rooms. They weren't staying in the cheap rooms. Thankfully, Frank was footing the bill.

"I can't take it anymore! I need room service! I need clean sheets! I need hot water whenever I want to take a shower! I want to plug in my hair dryer and not short out the entire electrical system!" Frank had cried as they drove across the New York State line. "I will pay for the rooms, but please don't make me stay in another cheap motel!"

Dean raised his hands in surrender.

"Besides, this hunt is almost like a vacation. We get to put on nice clothes and go to the opera. We get to drink champagne. I just want to stay somewhere that they put little chocolates on your pillow. Is that too much to ask?"

"We are staying in a suite that costs about $800 a night."

"What?" Dean turned away from the baseball game on the very large TV, "What are you talking about?"

"The 'Royal Suite is an elaborate two-bedroom suite offers 1,700 square feet of living space and features both a king-bedded and twin-bedded bedroom. There is a full kitchen, dining room for six, two marble bathrooms, a double-high ceiling in the raised living room, grand piano and mantle fireplace. This suite is located on the 22nd floor and features views sweeping skyline and East River views. Tastefully appointed and individually decorated by Alexandra Champalimaud, the Royal Suite features original hardwood floors, area rugs, luxurious fabrics and linens, and unique artwork adorning its walls'." Sam pointed each feature out as he read them to Dean from the website.

"Shit."

"For the room, without any extras: we're talking no room service, pay-per-view, nothing...comes to a cool $3,220.96."

Frank sailed into the room, "I'm really enjoying the white-gloved elevator operator. Isn't he just so posh? And they have a fitness centre downstairs...I'm not one for running on a treadmill, but it's fun to people-watch."

"That's a big thing for rich people, isn't it? People watching?" Dean asked.

"Yes. To see and be seen, although I much prefer to see, than be seen. But to each their own." Frank shrugged, "Are you two planning on joining me for breakfast tomorrow morning? It runs from 7 'til 10:30 on weekdays. We have a whole lot of work to get done before Saturday, so we should get an early start."

"Frank, why are we staying here?" Dean sighed heavily.

Frank looked over at Sam, who quickly shut his laptop. "Checking up on my spending habits?" she raised an unsurprised eyebrow.

"It's a lot of money." Sam said defensively.

"It's my money." she shrugged, "My treat."

"We can't afford to repay you for..."

Frank cut Dean off, "Seriously? Why is this such a huge deal for you? Isn't it nice to relax in some fancier accommodations after driving across the country in a car with no air-conditioning? I'm not doing this because I expect something from you, or figure you'll owe me or something. "She looked across the room vaguely, "Anyone interested in a drink from the minibar?"

"Yes, me!" Dean raised a hand.

"Dean, focus. "Sam reminded.

"No. No more discussions of why I'm paying for a hotel room." Frank insisted, "Just let me do this one nice thing before I leave okay?"

"Leave?"

Frank's face fell, "Well, I just thought that after this hunt I would go back to Canada. I mean, we're hours from the border. I have to go back home at some point."

"You do? I mean, of course, you do. "Dean slouched back into his chair.

"Yeah," Frank grabbed the phone, "I can't tag along with you forever. I mean, I got my M.D., I should be putting it to good use. Helping people, you know?" Frank punched something into the phone, "Hi, I'd like to get a bottle of champagne and some strawberries sent up, please. Yes...yes, thank you." she hung up.

"What are we celebrating?" Sam furrowed his brow.

"How awesome champagne tastes with strawberries?" Frank suggested.

"Frank." Dean gave her a look.

"Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?" she tried again feebly.

The boys weren't buying it.

"Come on, Frank." Sam insisted, "What's this all about?"

Frank sighed, "I can't stay with you forever, I just thought we could have fun with the last case. I even put a PowerPoint presentation together about the deaths." She showed them the screen of her laptop. "See? Little ghost animations and point form information."

There were indeed little cartoon animations of ghosts that danced across the screen.

"And while it's not like I'm actually going to be the one who gets the bad guy, I feel like I can make some sort of contribution to the general salvation of the world." Frank shrugged.

"Isn't the PowerPoint a little much?" Dean wanted to know, "Bit pretentious, don't you think?"

"You think I'm a snob?" Frank asked, surprised.

Dean held his fingers apart, "Little bit."

"I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best." Frank grinned back at him.

"Lemme guess; Oscar Wilde?"

"Correct."

"He was a snob too."

"Some of the best people are." Frank proceeded to give the Winchesters the low-down on the research she had done.

Among the three deaths, all were employees at the Metropolitan Opera, all had been working on the same production when they died, and a masked figured had been seen, and had disappeared 'like a ghost' according to witnesses.

"The police are baffled." Frank concluded.

"Well, we all know how well conventional law enforcement deals with the supernatural." Sam said with a smirk.

"Hey, they do the best with what they have!" Frank said defensively.

"Ok, ok!" Sam raised his arms apologetically.

Frank looked embarrassed by her outburst, but forged on, "I have two good candidates for our ghost."

"Pavarotti?" Dean suggested with an air of knowledge.

"No…Pavarotti died of pancreatic cancer…" Sam said.

"But he IS dead." Dean said with satisfaction.

"Luciano Pavarotti hardly had the makings of a vengeful spirit." Frank disagreed."There have been two deaths in the last 50 years. Most singers live forever and die of a chronic disease like atherosclerosis…but we have a stage hand that fell from the rafters in 1976—he broke his neck and later died in hospital. Also, and this is probably more likely our guy, a conductor who had a bit of a drinking problem, choked on his own vomit in his dressing room Opening Night in 1982."

"I think we have a winner." Dean decided.

"Problem is, he was cremated."

"Damn."

"Fortunately, his conductor baton is on display in the lobby."

"Any other bad news?"

"Nope…that's it."

"Well, we'll go in after hours and salt and burn that baby."

"We can go to Opening Night after." Frank looked thrilled. "I already got tickets."

Dean frowned warily, "The opera? Seriously?"

Frank nodded, "Seriously."

"It could be fun." Sam cajoled.

"And you know, don't knock it 'til you try it." Frank added.

Dean looked deeply skeptical.

XXX

"What's wrong?" Dean noticed Frank frowning at the screen of the laptop.

"The fans aren't very nice." Frank said.

"You're not reading slash again, are you?"

Frank rolled her eyes, "No. But Becky sent me a bunch of links to stories by other fans...and I think they're all Sam-girls."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you always get portrayed as this dumb, frat boy/cave man, while Sam is intelligent, sensitive, and... _way better looking._ "

Dean could hear the italics in her voice, "I see."

"I'm offended on your behalf." Frank informed him.

"Maybe you should stop reading those stories. " Dean suggested hopefully.

"I did find one that was much more insightful..." Frank brightened, then frowned again, "But very angsty..."

"You really should stop reading those stories." Dean decided.

The door swung open, Sam had returned from a quick trip to the gym.

"So, are you a Sam-girl or a Dean girl?" Dean wanted to know.

"Okay, I'm sure there's a story behind this conversation." Sam laughed.

"Is there such a thing as a Cas-girl?" Frank joked.

"No." Dean scowled.

"I'm an equal opportunity Winchester fan." Frank grinned bemusedly at Dean's displeasure. "Maybe I should submit character studies to these writers..."

"I think that constitutes an invasion of privacy." Dean grumbled.

Sam was listening to the conversation in bemused interest, "She'd just be setting the record straight."

"I have insights that should be shared." Frank shrugged.

"Like what?" Dean was suspicious.

"You really want to know what I think about you?" Frank arched an eyebrow.

Dean hesitated, "Uh, yes?"

Sam sat back and crossed his ankles, "I do."

Frank took a breath, "Okay well, off the top of my head..."she looked over at Dean, "You are smarter than you let people give you credit for, because you pretend to be scornful of the academic side of hunting. You take a step back and let Sam be the 'Smart One', and act like that makes you the 'Dumb One', but you're not. You studied Latin, and have scores of obscure supernatural knowledge that's saved both of you more times than I can count. You resist being a chosen one of heaven because you're convinced that God only wants perfect people to do His work." Frank leveled her gaze at Dean, "Let me let you in on a secret: the talent pool is pretty thin on earth when it comes to moral perfection. God picks sinners because that's frankly all He has to work with. He chooses people who don't have much to brag about. Samson had lust and anger issues, Paul originally persecuted the Church...but God chose them anyway."

Sam cocked his head in interest. Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you remember after the Rising of Samhain, what Castiel said to you? He said that the angels' orders were to follow your orders. They saw you as something completely independent to simply being Michael's vessel. Just think about that." Frank glanced over at Sam, "And it would be easy to say that you should have known better when it came to Ruby and the demon blood...but you were conned by a master of deception. She offered you control over your life and your powers...at least, what you thought was control. And who could blame you for falling for it? Your life has been Mr. Toad's Wild Ride...a desire to control that is perfectly understandable. The fact that it was a colossal mistake doesn't make you a bad person...if anything, the fact that you came back from that addiction to eventually put Lucifer back into the Pit...that's the measure of your character right there. You believed you were cursed and yet constantly try to do the right thing."

The Winchesters considered Frank's assessment.

"You said nicer things about Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes and Frank laughed.

"And you never said which one of us is the best looking."

"I think that one's pretty obvious." Frank smirked.

Dean's grin was wide. "Yeah but I wanna hear you say it."

"What makes you think that she's gonna say it's you?" Sam scoffed.

"Well, it's certainly not you, Sasquatch."

"It's John, obviously." Frank deadpanned.

The brothers loudly exclaimed their shock and displeasure.

"What? Papa Winchester definitely sounded sexy from the way he's described by Chuck."

Dean shook his head, "That's so wrong!"

"That's our Dad you're talking about!" Sam wrinkled his nose.

"If I recall correctly, Dean thought I was Bobby's mail-order girlfriend when I met you guys...how is thinking that your Dad is hot, any worse?"

Dean looked disturbed at the mention of his earlier assumption regarding her relationship with Bobby, while Sam succinctly rebutted Frank's inquiry with, "Because he's our Dad."

Frank snorted delicately.

XXX

"Oh. My. God." Frank was blinking uncertainly at Sam's laptop. She was lounging after dinner on the bed that was not covered in weapons reading some more of the fan-fiction that Becky had sent her.

"What is it?" Sam asked from the kitchen table. He had a newspaper open at the obituaries.

"Uh...well..." Frank gave an uneasy chuckle, "You wouldn't believe it if I read it to you."

"Try me." Dean said from the weapons bed. He had dismantled one of the shotguns and was cleaning it.

"If you're sure..."Frank looked mildly amused, and began to read," _'The angel Castiel was trapped in the ring of holy fire with the demon Meg as his guard. Meg looked at Castiel with lust in her black eyes. Castiel felt hot and uncomfortable in his tan trench-coat and Meg knew what to do. She reached across the holy fire and loosened Castiel's tie. Within minutes they were both naked and writhing on the-'_ "

"No! Stop! So wrong!" Dean exclaimed, slamming Sam's laptop shut.

"See, when you react like that, I can totally see one-sided Dean/Cas." Sam said thoughtfully.

Frank chuckled as Dean punched Sam in the shoulder and groaned in mortification, "Ugh!"

Sam snickered, dodging further attacks from his brother, who swiped a bottle of whiskey from a duffle bag and began blurring the image from his mind with big gulps.

"Well, now that we've got that sorted out, I'm going to change for dinner. Are you going to join me downstairs or are you going to stay here and order room service?" Frank inquired.

"I'll probably join you." Sam offered.

Dean was mulling over his fictional love life. "I'm staying here."

"Very well." Frank looked a little disappointed. She turned to Sam, "Suit up." She went into her room.

"You sure you're not coming?" Sam asked his brother curiously as he rooted through their bags for his suit.

Dean glared back at him, "Did I stutter?"

Sam sighed, as though Dean was being unreasonable. Well, screw him.

"So...you're going to stay here and sulk?" Sam raised an eyebrow and shed his casual clothes.

"I'm not sulking!" Dean pouted, "I mean, c'mon man! Champagne and strawberries? That's not us!"

Ah yes, the crux of the matter, Sam mused to himself, donning his dress shirt.

"Don't make that face; I know what you're thinking." Dean grouched.

"Listen Dean, I'm sorry you forgot to take your Midol…but she's leaving soon and we're probably not going to see her again. I suggest you make the most of the time we have." Sam pulled on the pants of his suit and threaded his best belt through the loops. He draped his tie around his neck.

"She's not dying." Dean rolled his eyes, walking over to Sam and tying his brother's tie for him. "Don't be such a drama-queen, Sammy."

"I'm not the one refusing to go out for dinner." Sam shot back.

Dean made a face and adjusted his brother's tie.

Sam put on his suit jacket and frowning, studied his hair in the mirror that hung above the fireplace.

Frank returned to the main room in her dinner wear; a simple black strapless Hervé Léger bandage dress and nude Christian Louboutin heels. The dress fit her form like the proverbial glove, and was shorter than anything the Winchesters had seen her wear.

Frank dropped her credit card and her identification into the beaded clutch purse that she was holding and casually flicked a strand of her chestnut hair from her eyes.

Dean folded his arms, huffing out a breath. Sam turned around at the sound.

"Are you ready to go?" Frank looked at Sam, seemingly ignoring Dean altogether.

"Maybe I'm a little hungry." Dean said stiffly. Sam bit back a grin and fished his dress shoes and socks from the bag.

"Well, we're not waiting for you." Frank's expression was cool, "You can meet us downstairs."

Dean clenched his jaw and nodded shortly.

Sam tied his laces, completing his outfit.

Frank made her way over to the taller Winchester and selected a yellow rose from the multi-coloured bouquet on the table. She dug around in one of her bags of luggage until she found a small sewing kit. She MacGyvered together a boutonniere with some black ribbon, thread and a bobby-pin. "Yellow for friendship." she explained her colour choice. "Now, if it had a red tip…that means falling in love, which you know, I'm not." She fastened the rose to Sam's lapel and tucked the sewing kit back into her luggage.

"And red ones are for love—right?"

"Or beauty, or courage, or respect." Frank nodded. "Orange or coral for desire, fascination, and enthusiasm. Pink for appreciation, grace, sympathy, or perfect happiness."

"Interesting." Sam smiled. "Shall we?" Sam looked over at Dean, who was frowning more deeply

Frank glanced at Dean with an unreadable expression, "We shall."

Dean watched as his brother offered Frank his elbow, which she took. They headed out the door.

He waited a beat to make sure they were gone, before muttering darkly as he sprung upon his duffle, which he upended on the couch.

By the time he was done, there were clothes all over the floor. A sock hung from a lampshade.

Dean was dressed.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and stalked out of the room, down the hall, and viciously stabbed at the elevator button.

XXXX

Frank and Sam were enjoying excellent service and food in the dining room of the Carlyle. The room was fairly busy and Frank was silhouetted against the window, the pink and orange hues of the sunset illuminating the room.

"Are you really going to leave without telling him?"

Until then, the conversation had been minimal—mainly exclaiming over the delicious food. Frank looked at Sam quizzically.

"Dean." Sam prompted her.

Her jaw sagged slightly. "How did you know?"

"You were mad that he didn't want to come to dinner." Sam gave her a small smile.

"He was being obstinate." Frank backpedaled. "It's totally nothing. I'm just cranky because I'm leaving soon and—"

"And he doesn't know how you feel." Sam finished for her.

"That's hardly the point." Frank said resolutely.

Sam's expression called her bluff.

"Okay, fine…so what if I do. I'm sure it's just a crush…and I'm leaving, so it's stupid to say anything. I mean…it's Dean. He's the recent co-saviour of the world…I'm just…I'm not…"Frank was gesticulating helplessly.

"You're wonderful…and we're not all we're cracked up to be."

"I read the Winchester Gospels, remember?…I know what you got up to." Frank pointed out.

"You're Bobby's daughter…and awesome by extension." Sam shot back with a grin.

"I slept with you." Frank grimaced. "Which may be a point in my favour in some circles, but I don't expect Dean to look on it beneficently."

Sam shook his head, "Doesn't even count. That was Meg. And way more my fault."

"It's all completely moot, Sam." Frank said with wide eyed finality. "I'm going home. I'm not staying here. I mean, you're quite welcome to come with me—but can you seriously picture Dean in Canada? Batman won't even drink imported beer. It's foolish to even fantasize about."

"Did you hear the one about the man looking for the perfect woman? Well, he found her. Unfortunately it didn't lead to anything, because she was looking for the perfect man." Sam gave her a pointed look.

"Haha, very witty." Frank grumbled.

" _'Some people come into our lives to cast a steady light upon our path and guide our every step, their shining belief in us helps us to believe in ourselves_.'" Sam quoted at her from the Flavia Weedn poem

 _"'Some people come into our lives and quickly go... '"_ Frank shot back with another verse.

 _"'Some people come into our lives and they move our souls to sing and make our spirits dance.'"_ Sam said firmly as he rose from his seat, "I'm going to the bathroom, but this conversation is far from over."

Frank shook her head in disagreement and took a sip of her Merlot.

XXXX

Sam re-joined Frank at the table. She looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Why does everyone have sex on the brain tonight?" she asked before he could say anything.

"Uh, how do you mean?"

"Well, while you were gone, a man came over to the table and gave me his room key."

Sam's eyebrows rose.

"And that guy over there has been hitting on that poor woman for the last fifteen minutes." she nodded in the direction of the bar. A young woman in a mini-dress was currently dodging the advances of a portly man in a suit who looked as though he'd had one too many drinks that evening.

They watched the girl finally give up trying to enjoy her drink, and walk out of the room.

Dean came up to the table with a grin on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" Sam furrowed his brow.

Dean dropped a room key on the table in reply.

"Huh, Frank got one too." Sam nodded over to Frank, who was turning a key over in her hands.

Dean frowned and Sam hid a smile.

"Some guy just came over and gave you a key while Sam was sitting here?" Dean's frown deepened.

"Sam was in the washroom." Frank sighed heavily, "This businessman--a young guy in a suit, was... _watching_ me. And suddenly he came over and just dropped his key on the table. And gave me this... _look_."

"A look? He gave you a look?" Dean's jaw was clenched.

"You know the sort of look that guys give women when they..." she trailed off.

"Give them their room key?" Sam supplied helpfully.

"That's the one." Frank's lip curled nervously, "I didn't even...I wasn't..."

"I know, we know." Sam said quickly, putting reassuring a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm going to go back up to the room. We've got a whole lot to do tomorrow." Frank rose from her chair and collected her purse. She looked at the key in her hand and sauntered over to the bar. She dropped her key in front of the flirtatious drunk and headed for the elevators.

Dean and Sam watched with grins on their faces.

"God, I love her."

Sam looked over at Dean in surprise.

Dean scowled, "It's just an expression, Sam."

"An expression of lo-ove." Sam teased.

"I'm going back to the room." Dean growled.

"You're not going to hook up with that girl?" Sam looked pointedly at the key in Dean's hand.

"That's right," Dean frowned, remembering. "That's what I'm going to do. Don't wait up."

Sam chuckled and shook his head as Dean spun on his heel and left the restaurant without eating dinner.

XXXX

Dean let himself back into the hotel room in the early hours of the morning, taking a short shower before crawling into his bed and sleeping in until Frank knocked on his bedroom door. Sam was already up and dressed, having joined Frank for an early breakfast which had been delivered to the room. Dean was a little surprised that he'd slept through the smell of bacon, until he realized that the two hadn't even ordered any.

Dean ate his own breakfast by himself as he watched Frank and his brother huddle in front of her laptop together, practically ignoring him.

Frank had arranged for the brothers to get fitted for tuxedos at Hugo Boss and left them there as she headed off to get herself properly outfitted for their night out on the town.

She returned and promised the reward of lunch before announcing they had one more stop to make.

Harry Winston was just down the street.

"Don't. Touch. Anything." Frank said to Dean as they stood outside.

"What? I never..." Dean said, flabbergasted.

"Just keep your hands to yourself." she said as she entered the store.

"I would never attempt to shoplift with so many cameras. "Dean muttered as he pushed by Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes and followed them inside.

XXX

After lunch at Papaya King, Frank and the Winchesters returned to their suite at the Carlyle. As per Frank's request, all of their purchases had been delivered by the concierge. Frank locked the jewelry in the suite safe and then went into her bedroom to hang her gown in her closet.

Frank huffed a little sigh as she glanced toward the closed bedroom door which separated her from the brothers. She kept thinking of last night's conversation with Sam. Was it really worth it to say something to Dean? Was Sam right? She wished she could talk to somebody else about this. Someone who knew her, knew Dean, had a bigger picture perspective.

"Oh Castiel," Frank breathed, "I could certainly use your help with Dean."

Castiel appeared and found Frank sitting at the desk in her room with her forehead resting on the desktop, her fingers laced behind her head.

"Are you ill?"

"I'm praying for guidance."

Castiel had come to understand humans better since his time spent as one. While he hadn't experienced anything like this, he did understand heartache. He knew it hurt.

Castiel looked down at Frank. What was it that Dean did when Sam was feeling conflicted and low?

He formed his hand into a fist and gently bumped it to Frank's shoulder.

She huffed a smiled, "Wrong one. When you're trying to comfort a girl you give her a hug." She glanced up at the angel, "Or you put a hand on her shoulder...or you sit," she pointed to the bed, "Over there and listen to her talk about her problems."

Castiel obliged.

"I need chocolate."

"You said you were praying for guidance."

"Yes, well, I also need chocolate."

XXXX

Frank and Cas sat with china teacups in front of them. Frank poured the sweet herbal beverage. "Most of the time that I'm around him I act like my brain has fallen out of my skull, instead of the mostly rational, medical doctorate holding, nice girl that I thought that I was. Why do I turn into a bimbo around him? I'll tell you why," she interrupted Castiel before he could answer, "Because he's an incredibly good looking guy and I have regressed into puberty."

"Many people struggle with the sin of lust."

"Thank you, it sounds so much worse when you say it like that." Frank wore a slightly horrified expression.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

Frank thought about how she liked the way that Dean seemed to hold onto the fundamental belief that everyone deserved life, and that he was willing to save them all. People he didn't even know, he was willing to do battle for. "I think..."Frank shook her head,"I know I'm in love with him."

"Dean."

"Yes."

"What has made you come to this conclusion?"

"Being around him, and then reading about him. I mean...in everything he did, in everything he does, I love him. When he sold his soul for Sam, I loved him. I thought he was insane, but I loved him for loving his brother that much."

"God loves us in all we do."

"Isn't it worrisome that I love him unconditionally? I mean, are humans even capable of that?"

"You love him unconditionally?" Castiel's eyes were unreadable.

Frank considered."Well, I don't expect anything from him. I don't expect him to love me back."

"Why not?"

"Because he's Dean Winchester." Frank said carefully, as though Castiel were being deliberately obtuse. "If Dean's purpose here is as an instrument through which God will rid the world of evil, then who am I to distract him with my school girl crush?"

Castiel considered the young women, "God isn't simply about righteous anger and vengeance. He's about love."

Talking to the angel was like getting hit by the clue bus.

After her illuminating chat with Cas, Frank decided to be a tourist that afternoon and left the brothers in the hotel room to research the logistics of breaking into the Met while she explored New York City. She returned with many bags of various souvenirs and clothes. One t-shirt she had purchased from a street vendor read 'Rock is Dead. Long live Paper and Scissors.' Dean wasn't sure if he found it insulting or amusing.

XXXX

While Frank was off sightseeing, Sam decided to take a break from the blueprints of the Met to broach the topic of their new friend with his brother. Knowing Dean as he did, he though that while the blunt approach was best, Frank was possibly a delicate subject.

"So...what do you think of Frank?" Sam said casually, as he leaned back in his chair.

Dean glanced up at his brother. Sam wasn't usually the one to suggest taking a break from the planning stage of the job, and it made Dean a little curious.

Dean folded his arms across his chest and adopted the same pose as Sam, leaning back in his chair. "What do I think of Frank as what?"

"As a, you know, a person." Sam shrugged, trying to keep it casual.

Dean shot his brother a slightly bewildered look. "She's great." he said slowly, "You know, she's Bobby's daughter, so clearly she's awesome."

"Uh huh." Sam jutted his chin and nodding as though Dean had made an incredibly keen observation.

"Why? What do you think of Frank-as a person?" Dean sometimes could not figure his little brother out.

"Great, awesome, same as you." Sam agreed readily.

"Okay then, glad that's settled. So...are we going to get back to work now?"

"Yeah, in a minute-just thought we could use a break. And she's not here, so I thought you'd want to..."Sam gestured for the words,"Talk."

"Uh, well, no, not really."Dean was perplexed, "What gave you that impression?"

"Just, you know, after last night. You hooked up with some random chick. Plus the weird little argument the two of you had before dinner. Not to mention you haven't really hit on her since we met her at Bobby's." Sam ticked his examples off his fingers.

"She's not really my type." Dean said shortly, shifting forward in his chair and moving the file of papers that sat in front of them around in a busy manner.

"She's hot and female, Dean." Sam scoffed, "She couldn't be _more_ your type."

"She's not some chick at a bar, Sam." Dean said tightly, studiously looking at the papers. "She's not from the same world we come from. She's Canadian." he said with a sense of finality.

"Since when is that a reason not to want her?"

"She's too smart to get involved with people like us, Sammy. You heard her, she's going home after this job. She's going to settle back into her rich person lifestyle where she doesn't have to deal with the monsters and the spirits. She's going to marry another doctor or an accountant and she's going to have two kids and a picket fence. She's going to forget about us when she gets back to her real life. She's apple pie normal."

Sam pursed his lips, "Dean, first of all, she is involved with 'people like us'-she's been traveling with us for almost two months now. I don't really think that after all that's happened she's just going to forget about us. And maybe she's a little bit 'apple pie normal'...but she's also not."

"I can't believe you thought you were going to be a lawyer. 'She's also not'? "Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam huffed out a breath, "Why aren't you making a move on her?"

"Why is this such a big deal for you?" Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, "She's Bobby's daughter, Sam. I don't have a death wish. Even if I was thinking about her in any kind of domestic life kind of way, there's no getting around that fact. End of discussion, let's get back to work."

Sam hadn't really given it much thought, but every so often Dean would ask him about whether or not he ever wanted a wife and kids and white picket fences. Of course, Sam was a little passed that now, what with them having the apocalypse on their hands. But now that he actually thought about it, Dean usually got pretty quiet after those questions.

Did Dean want to settle down and have the American dream?

And now, with Frank—was Dean's weirdness based on the fact that he was fond of Frank, and she was Bobby's daughter, or was it something else entirely?

XXXX

That evening, Frank caught an episode of the Ghostfacers on her laptop. She snickered into her hand as she watched Harry and Ed introduce themselves.

Dean wandered over cautiously to see what she was looking at.

His face screwed up disbelief, "Someone actually pays these idiots to make a tv show?"

"Oh come on, these guys are funny. And while they don't really know what they're doing, it looks like they're trying." Frank said helpfully, "Isn't it a good thing that they're doing their part?"

"People who don't know what they're doing tend to get themselves killed in this business." Dean insisted.

"I think they have dumb luck on their side." Frank giggled, pointing at the screen, "And they really are not big fans of you either."

"Well, they should be. We saved their sorry asses."

"Maybe I'll send them a check. Did you know that you can't view this webseries outside of the US? It's weird, because I think one of the producers went to school in Canada." Frank mused. "Hey, look, they got a new intern-Ambyr."

"Oh she's hot." Dean blurted.

"She is very pretty, isn't she?" Frank leaned back in her chair, "And I like her earrings."

Frank and Dean settled into watching the episode together.

"I appreciate how unintentionally funny they are." Frank giggled.

Dean let his irritation at the Ghostfacers slide away in light of Frank's obvious enjoyment.

Once the webisode had ended, Frank went to bed and the Winchesters headed for the Met after hours to take care of the conductor's baton.

She didn't ask to accompany them. Dean found her to be a curiosity.

The task of salting and burning the baton was fairly easy. The brothers were able to bypass the security system and deal with the object of the haunting in under twenty minutes. Dean wondered why all their jobs couldn't be this easy.

The Winchesters got back to the hotel before it was even midnight and got another decent night of sleep. Dean was beginning to think that they were using up their alotted breaks at life in awfully big chunks these days.

XXXX

Saturday morning was spent in a decidedly lazy manner. Frank went down to the spa in the hotel for several treatments. She offered to treat the Winchesters to one of the spa packages. Dean firmly declined, joking about happy endings not being included in the spa service, but Sam took Frank up on a shiatsu massage that left him drooling into the massage table.

By lunch the trio met to share a meal in the hotel restaurant and Frank gave the brothers the Reader's Digest/Cole's Notes version of La Bohème, the production they would be attending that evening for Opening Night at the Met. Dean was soundly disappointed that the opera wasn't even going to be in English and resigned himself to one of the most boring nights of his entire existence.

Shortly after lunch, Frank retired to her bedroom to begin preparing for the evening out. About an hour later she poked her head out of the door, her chestnut hair swept into an elegant twist at the base of her neck. "I've made reservations for dinner out before the show. I suggest you gentlemen begin getting dressed."

The Winchesters exchanged looks. Dean turned the television off and Sam closed his laptop.

Frank ducked back into her room and the brothers reached for their tuxedos.

"Penguin suits." Dean muttered darkly.

"Bruce Wayne wore a tux." Sam said vaguely as he reached for his shoes.

Dean stilled. "Damn straight, he did."

Sam smiled to himself and Dean happily dressed for a few moments in silence-until he picked up his bow-tie.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Dean plucked at the silk.

"Of course you can. It's for your Franky-poo."Sam was far too amused by Dean's discomfort.

"I swear I'm going to-''

"Shush, Dean. God can hear you."

XXXX

"Alright, prepare yourself. It took some effort, but I have to say it: I am stunning." Frank announced as she pushed open her door.

Dean took her advice and steeled himself. He turned around and felt his bow-tie tighten around his throat.

The hem of the dove grey strapless silk gown kissed the floor and made it seem as though Frank was gliding as she entered the room. Flashes of her beaded high heels could occasionally be glimpsed while she walked. The smokey grey topaz choker she wore rested impressively against her neck and complemented the simple dime sized studs adorning her earlobes. Frank held a beaded clutch purse in one hand and had gathered some of the folds of her skirt in the other as she promenaded in to the room with a flourish.

"Well?" Frank twirled once on the spot, skirts ruffling gently, "What do you think?"

"Stunning." Sam agreed with a smile.

Dean nodded shortly.

Frank scanned her eyes over the Winchesters in appreciation, "I think it's extremely safe to suggest that we'll be turning heads tonight." She exclaimed over the Winchesters in their tuxedos while extracting the camera she had purchased in North Carolina from her bag on the hall table.

Frank got a couple of shots of them all together before tucking the camera back into her bag. She picked up her clutch and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Our pumpkin awaits, gentlemen." She announced, pulling on elbow length opera gloves and draping her shawl wrap across her shoulders.

XXXX

Dean was surprised at the fuss that was being made over the Opening night of La Bohème. There were cars lined up in front of the large pillared building and actual paparazzi snapping photographs of the arriving patrons. Dean was pretty sure he spotted Tyra amidst the camera flashes.

What stunned him further was when Frank stopped briefly in front of the cameras for a brief 'who are you wearing?' moment with what turned out to be a journalist from Hello! Canada magazine. Sometimes Dean forgot that Frank was really not part of the Winchester world of hunting and running from any sort of recognition.

"She always looks very bored...of course, she could very well just be heavily medicated. "Frank was pointing out people among the opera patrons that she knew once they were inside the lobby of the Opera House. They had arrived with time to spare after their meal out. Dean appreciated that Frank had taken the time to choose a place that served steak instead of tiny servings of unpronounceable delicacies. She was currently speaking of a young blonde woman in a yellow gown who looked like she was, as Frank put it, heavily medicated.

"Is this gonna be boring? Maybe she really is just bored." Dean suggested.

"Listen, the thing about the opera is that you either love it, let yourself get swept up in the pageantry and soaring music...or you think it's ridiculous, archaic and mind-numbingly boring."

"I feel like Julia Roberts."

"I'm sorry that our ghost isn't haunting Broadway, I know you'd prefer to be watching the production of RENT. I'll see if we can get it on Pay-Per-View back at the hotel." Frank reassured.

Sam chuckled.

"What? Is it any good?" Dean asked curiously.

 _" 'You know what, Miss Ivy League? I can't take much more of this. This obsessive, compulsive, control-freak, paranoia. I didn't pierce my nipples 'cause it grossed you out. I didn't stay at the Kink Club last night because you wanted to go home.' "_ Frank quoted by heart to Dean's raised eyebrows.

 _" 'You were flirting with the woman in rubber.' "_ Sam quoted the reply. Dean whipped his head around, eyes wide in surprise.

 _" 'There will always be women in rubber flirting with me!' "_ Frank laughed at Sam's quickness.

"We are so watching that when we get back from the Opera." Dean decided.

"Sam!"

Sam whirled around and looked down at the sharp eyes of Gertrude Case. Sam nearly swallowed his tongue as his buttocks clenched involuntarily. She was going to grope him again, he just knew it. He looked warily at the glass of champagne in her old papery hand.

He could hear Dean stifling a chuckle behind him.

"It's so good to see you, my dear boy...are you here with Alex?"

"Uh..." Sam frantically tried to remember who Alex...ah...right, _Bela._

"Nope," Dean stepped forward with a smirk on his face, "We're here with our friend Dr. Houdin. She has box seats."

"Oh! How lovely. Where are they?"

"Box 34." Dean replied as Sam glared hatefully at him.

"Delightful, I'm across the theatre in 37." Gert turned to Frank. "Gertrude Case, dear, pleasure to meet you."

"Enchanté."Frank extended her hand and the women exchanged a very ladylike handshake.

"You'll call me Gert, of course." Gert instructed, "And join me for drink afterwards, naturally."

"Naturally." Dean grinned.

Sam groaned inwardly.

"Shall we move into the theatre?" Frank asked.

XXXX

"Grandfather always said that he did not work for money, but made money work for him." Frank was chatting happily with Gert as they moved as a group into the main part of the theatre.

Sam was attempting to walk on the opposite end of their little party, far away from Gert as he could get.

Eventually Gert broke away to head to her seat and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Frank led them to the box seats she had reserved and settled into the chair.

They had arrived in enough time to see the orchestra beginning to tune up their instruments.

Dean was already fidgeting like a four year old and Frank placed a hand on his thigh to still him, as the lights dimmed.

"Just let the experience soak into you." she leaned over and breathed into Dean's neck.

A shiver passed up his spine, electrifying his nerves. "I'm SpongeBob," he assured her.

XXXX

The intermission brought the house lights back on and Frank slipped away to 'powder her nose'.

Dean snagged some champagne flutes off the tray of a passing teen in a white waiter's jacket and waited with his brother.

"So, enjoying yourself?" Sam asked, keeping one wary eye out for Gert.

"Alcohol," Dean raised his glass,"Although I'm still dressed like a penguin."

"On the other hand, you also get to enjoy seeing Frank dressed up." Sam pointed out.

Dean inclined his head in agreement,"But is opera really worth it?"

Sam's reply was cut off by the return of Frank. Her expression was slightly grim, and very worried."Didn't you guys torch the conductor's baton?"

"Uh...yeah, why?"

"There's a rumour going around that there was a death before the performance. There's several uniformed police officers backstage. The body has already been taken to the coroner's office." Frank's nostrils flared in anxiety.."Cast members are talking more and more about a masked figure with a cape being seen around backstage where no one is allowed to go."

"Okay, new plan, we split up and track this thing down with EMF meters." Dean said quickly, taking in all of the information.

"What is that, like, plan F?" Frank was getting a little hysterical.

"No, plan F; Sam sacrifices a limb." Dean said.

"I say we skip plan F." Sam voted.

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan...but I think I have a better one...we should escape to Canada...eh? Eh? Who's with me?"

Dean snorted, "Typical Canadian reaction...run away when the going gets tough."

"Okay, don't start. When Americans started the War of 1812 and invaded Canada, Canadians pushed the Americans back, passed your White House...which we burned along with most of Washington, under the command of William Lyon McKenzie who was insane and hammered all the time. The Arrogant Worms wrote a song about it and it has a catchy tune. I'm going to kick you in the shins if you don't shut up."

"You're sexy when you're mad."

Frank raised her eyes in a long suffering manner, "Oh Lord give me patience and GIVE IT TO ME NOW."

"Abraham Maslow said, 'If you only have a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.'"

"You are a fortune cookie of wisdom, Sam." Frank gritted out with rising fear.

"Come on guys, focus." Dean snapped, "We split up with the EMF detectors and flush this thing out."

"I don't think your plan is crazy enough." Frank muttered under her breath.

"I'll get the stuff from the car. Frank, stay with Sam." Dean turned on his heel and stalked off down the hall.

XXXX

Dean returned with a bag full of equipment. He handed Frank and Sam EMF meters.

After a number of minutes of searching, there was no convincing evidence that there was ever a ghostly presence at the Metropolitan Opera.

"I think we need a new plan." Sam said, rejoining his brother and Frank in the crowded lobby.

"Ok, somebody tell me something I don't know." Dean said tiredly.

"I wanted to be an ER surgeon because they're the celebrities of the medical world." Frank said quickly.

"About the case."

"I don't think this is a supernatural thing. I think a human did this." Frank said slowly.

"Aw, man! I hate it when it's regular people." Dean groaned, "People are bat-shit crazy."

Frank rolled her eyes, "Welcome to my world."

"Well, if this isn't supernatural, then we're a little out of our jurisdiction on this one."Sam said, "The cops will be able to figure this out on their own."

Dean looked skeptical and Frank was equally dubious,"But doesn't that mean we've got an actual live killer just strolling around the place, walking free? That can't be safe."

"It's not, but what-are we supposed to figure out who it is and make some sort of citizen's arrest?" Dean snorted,"Keeping in mind that the intermission is almost over, and we have to get back into the theatre."

"You're right, we should probably get back to our seats. You can do your super-sleuthing after the performance." Frank agreed."Shall we?"

They began to move with the crowd back into the theatre.

Frank felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She could feel someone's eyes on her. Surreptitiously, she retrieved her makeup mirror from her purse and pretended to check her makeup. _Nancy Drew has nothing on me,_ she thought as her heart pounded frenetically. She adjusted the mirror and for a split second she caught a glimpse of a masked figure.

Frank jammed the mirror back into her purse and took off in a sprint-harder to do in high heels than it looked on Charlie's Angels. Sam and Dean saw her dash away from them and followed after her. Halfway down the hall, Frank kicked off her Louboutins in favour of saving her ankles. She heard Dean curse as he nearly trip over one of the shoes, but she kept running, not looking back.

The masked man wore a black cloak that flapped behind him. Frank grinned as she forced herself to run faster. She was almost close enough to get a grip on the cloak...she reached out and grabbed a handful of the fabric. The man gagged and grasped at his throat. He unclasped the cloak, leaving Frank, who was nearly unbalanced, behind.

She shrieked in frustration, dropping the heavy fabric and running faster.

"Okay, seriously?"Dean yelled from behind, a few seconds later.

If only I hadn't worn such a long dress, Frank lamented in her head, All this fabric is holding me back.

They had almost reached the lobby, and Frank was now pursuing her quarry around the obstacles of other people.

A woman screamed as she saw the masked man, and she slumped to the ground in a faint.

A flute of champagne could be heard shattering on the floor. More screams and exclamations.

"Stop that man!" Frank shouted, "Stop him!"

But people only moved out of the way of the chase.

"Frank, we've got this!" Dean shouted to her, "We've got-!"

His voice trailed off as he watched Frank lunge forward, the grey silk skirt of her dress billowing out behind her. There was a crunch of sound as Frank made contact, and a grunt of surprise from the masked man. The pair landed in a heap in the middle of the lobby and lay still for a second, before a struggle broke out on the floor. The man tried to squirm away but Frank straddled his torso and clocked him across the side of his head with her beaded clutch. He cried out and began wriggling beneath her in earnest.

"Stop moving! I'm making a citizen's arrest!" Frank declared authoritatively, smacking him once more for emphasis.

"Police brutality!" the man beneath her shrieked and kicked out at her.

"Whoa, dude, you've been caught! Let it go!" Dean reached the struggling pair on the floor.

Sam lifted Frank off of the man and Dean pulled the guy to his feet, gripping him firmly by the bicep.

"Hey, hey, dude!" The masked figured cried out.

"What, dude?" Dean grabbed the mask from the man's face "Just be grateful we pulled you apart before she went all Jersey Shore on your ass." Dean looked over at Frank in amusement.

XXXX

When the NYPD finally showed up to arrest who turned out to be a murderously jealous understudy, the majority of Act 2 was over.

"Want to go back into the theatre?" Sam asked.

"Ugh, no. I just want to go home." Frank said tiredly.

A stricken look passed over Dean's face, which Frank saw out of the corner of her eye. "Home to the hotel," she reassured.

Dean was slightly mollified.

XXXX

"That one chick actually reminded me of one of my ex-girlfriends." Dean mused tiredly, as the credits for RENT rolled up the screen.

"One of your ex's was a lesbian?" Frank asked sleepily.

Dean wrinkled his nose, "No, the other chick."

"One of your ex's was a transsexual?" Frank wore a lazy grin.

"No!" Dean laughed.

"One of your ex's was...who's left?"

"Mimi. Are you talking about Cassie? Yeah, I guess they kind of look a bit alike." Sam agreed.

"One of your ex's was an HIV-positive junkie?" Frank guessed, making herself more comfortable between the Winchesters on the couch.

"Never mind." Dean grumbled.

"I'm not judging, I'm just curious."Frank's teasing smile assured him.

XXXX

The morning sun was particularly bright and disruptive to Dean's attempt at sleeping in. He should have remembered to close the curtains in his room the night before, but it was all he could do to shuck off his tuxedo and slip under the impossibly soft sheets of his bed.

He was drawn even more out of his sleep when he heard very upset sounding French being spoken by Frank in the other room. Dean wrapped the terry cloth robe around himself from the back of his door as he shuffled into the main part of their hotel suite.

Frank was finishing her phone call as Sam looked on in worry.

"Is something wrong?" Dean asked, looking between the two.

"My grandmother...s-she had a stroke. _Elle est dans l'hôpital._ She's in a coma." Frank sat down heavily. "I have to go to Montréal."

"Hey, it'll be okay. What can we do to help?" Dean said, coming over to sit beside her.

"Will you come with me?" she looked at them both with pleading eyes.

"Of course, yes." Dean said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Really?"

"Sure. If that's what you need us to do." Sam agreed.

"Thank you...oh, thank you." she pulled Dean into a tight hug. Standing up, she sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. "I'll go make the arrangements." With that she strode over to the phone and placed a call, "Yes, hello? I'd like to charter a jet from New York City to Montréal."

Frank did not see the stricken expression on Dean's face.

XXXX

Sam and Dean did their 60 second clean up, throwing all they owned into the duffles. Already had most of her clothes pack, since she didn’t have a tendency to leave the contents strewn around the room.

"To the Batmobile, Robin!" Dean slung his duffle over his shoulder and reached for Frank’s newly acquired garment bag containing her gown.

“Isn’t Sam supposed to be Robin?” Frank quirked an eyebrow.

Sam’s brow furrowed.

XXX

Frank decided that it would look particularly strange for members of the ground crew to board a private jet and immediately nixed the idea of Sam and Dean dressing this way. It was calming Dean's nerves to have to put a plan together for smuggling themselves onto the plane and it took his mind off of the fact that once they were on the plane, it would actually have to take off into the air.

"How are we going to get across the border if we don't have passports? We can't easily fake those..." Sam pointed out.

Dean agreed "Yeah, I have mad skills, but even I have limits."

"I could sneak you onto the plane."

"What, hide us in your luggage?" Sam chuckled.

"No, I have a better idea..."

"I don't like the look on her face." Dean said uneasily.

XXX

"So what's with the little Canadian flags on the front of the car?" Dean asked dubiously, looking at the Lincoln Town car that was parked in front of their hotel.

"It's on loan from the Canadian consulate. The ambassador is a family friend. Lovely man." Frank had arranged a charter flight out of Newark International Airport. It turned out that a business associate of her grandfather's owned his own company jet and was willing to let Frank use it for her family emergency.

"On loan...is that a euphemism for 'I stole it'?" Sam asked nervously, loading their luggage into the trunk of the Lincoln.

Frank looked offended, "No. 'On loan', as in actually on loan."

"Sorry, I'm getting a little worried how much of an influence Dean is on you." Sam raised his hands in surrender.

"I love it when a plan comes together." Dean rubbed his hands together gleefully.

Dean kept his bitching and moaning about the Impala being left in New York City to a minimum. Frank assured him that the storage facility was completely secure and he wouldn't have to worry about a thing.

In fact, he was holding all of his fears in check so well that Frank didn't remember he was a nervous flyer until they got through security and onto the plane. Dean started nervously humming Metallica as he puttered around the cabin, fidgeting with his uniform jacket. They'd settled on cockpit crew uniforms as disguises for extra precaution. Dean was, of course, completely against spending the money on costumes they'd(as far as he was concerned) never need again.

"Is he okay?" Frank frowned.

"He's afraid of flying." Sam said, taking off his pilot cap.

"What?" Frank looked startled, and then embarrassed, "Dean! Why didn't you remind me you don't like to fly?"

Dean froze, the notes of Frantic dying on his lips, "Uh...didn't seem important at the time?"

Frank gritted her teeth, but at Dean's open and supportive expression, her face softened. "You didn't have to come with me if it bothered you so much." Then, as an afterthought, she added gently, "Idjit."

Dean gave her a small smile and watched her unbutton her camel hair coat. The weather seemed to have finally caught on to the fact that it was autumn, and there was a chill in the New York air.  
Sam helped her off with her coat and she draped it over the back of her chair, smoothing the skirt of her simple black knee-length shift dress. She toyed with the strand of pearls at her neck for a moment before pulling off her black leather gloves, tossing them on top of the coat.

It was at that moment that the pilot came on board.

"Oh...I'm on the right jet, aren't I?" he looked at Sam and Dean in confusion. He was a handsome man in his early 40s with streaks of grey through his dark hair.

"Yes of course, my friends were just playing an elaborate joke on me," Frank rolled her eyes, "I'm terrified of flying and they were being very mean and saying that they were going to be flying the plane...I'm so glad you're here!"

"Don't be nervous, miss, I'm an excellent pilot. I believe that there's some champagne on ice, have one of the jokers pour you a glass to ease your nerves." The pilot gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you, Captain." Frank proffered her hand, "Dr. Nicole Houdin."

"Captain Randy Malcolm."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine, Doc."

"This is Sam, and Dean."

"Good to meet you boys." Captain Randy gave them a jaunty salute.

"When are we going to get this show on the road?" Dean said with a tight smile.

"Pre-flight checklist'll only take a couple minutes and we'll be airborne within the half hour. It's about a 4 hour flight, so we'll hit Trudeau International at about 1500 hours." He disappeared into the cockpit.

"So, Dean, what can I do to distract you from the flight?" Frank turned a concerned face on the eldest Winchester,"I'll let you beat me at chess." she offered.

"Strip chess?" Dean asked hopefully.

"No."

XXXX

"So, how are we going to get through customs?"

"Well, I thought you guys could just parachute off and we can meet up later." Frank said, studiously examining her cards.

"How about we land the plane, just to be really accurate?" Dean suggested with a panicked look on his face. "You know, stick together. Probably a better idea."

"I suppose." Frank made a face and shuffled her cards. "Well, you'll just have to walk off the same way you walked on."

XXXX

"I much prefer flying on a private jet." Frank mused as she sipped her champagne.

"Why's that?" Sam inquired.

"I like smaller planes, makes me feel like I'm really flying, instead of just being crammed into a gigantic tube of metal with a ton of other people. Plus, I really don't like having to be on the same flight as children who, in my opinion, should be stored in the overhead compartments."

Dean choked on his beer, "You don't like kids?"

"Sure, what's not to love? They cry and drool and, until the age of five, most of them aren't even in control of their own bodily functions." Frank said cheerfully.

"But, you were great with Cassie's kid." Dean pointed out.

"Fake it 'til you make it." Frank shrugged. "I'm always worried that I'm going to do something wrong. And they're not exactly miniature Desmond Tutus, so communication is pretty tricky. I don't have siblings so I didn't even get a crash course of first-hand experience."

"And Ben, I saw you with Ben. You were amazing." Dean continued, ignoring her rant.

"Ben's a superkid." Frank waved him off, "A rare breed of awesome."

"Well, that's because he's my kid. So naturally..."

"Modesty looks so good on you." Frank rolled her eyes.

"What about that baby on the side of the road?" Dean added, "You gotta admit, you kicked ass at that delivery."

"I get paid to do that sort of thing, though." Frank argued. "That's job-related ass-kickery."

"And you handle Sam nicely too."

"No one 'handles' me." Sam said sulkily from his laptop.

"I was just about to say 'Sam is not a child', but I think I'm going to retract that statement." Frank grinned in amusement.

Sam gave them both a pinched look.

Frank and Dean chuckled.

XXXX

The flight was over sooner than Dean had anticipated. The trio also had much less trouble disembarking the flying death-trap and leaving the airport than he had expected.

A car picked them up from the International Airport as soon as they'd clear Customs, and drove them straight to the hospital.

Street signs blew by in a blur of French writing and Dean looked anxiously at his brother, who was seemingly not worried by the fact that they were presently in a foreign country that didn't even speak English. Dean was going to have to buy himself a guidebook or something just to order a cheeseburger. _Canadian restaurants serve cheeseburgers...don't they?_ That was something he was definitely going to have to ask Frank about.

XXXX


End file.
